Vengeance is Mine
by Elenimou
Summary: Stephanie has a stalker but who may be the stalker and why has everyone confused.
1. Chapter 1

Traditional Babe story…..almost

I angled out of my latest demolition derby reject at 6:03 p.m. Paychecks as a bond apprehension agent are feast or famine. I've been in a famine cycle due to the bonded actually appearing in court for their hearings and not my ineptitude. My low bond retrievals have kept me in gasoline money and little more. Hence my need to suck up my always shaky ego and bum another meal from my parents.

As expected my mother is standing by the door with a look of total embarrassment. Not only is my POS car a slap in the face to the neighborhood, I'm late for dinner. My mother considers it an obligation to have dinner on the table at 6 pm. Gabriel could be ready to blow his horn indicating Judgement Day, but he'd have to wait until the dinner dishes were cleared and dessert was consumed at the Plum house.

On Fridays I am bound my familial bonds to be at the dinner table unless I'm in the hospital, always a possibility, or I on a date, rarely a possibility. I know not to be late or be blamed for dry pot roast, overcooked chicken or soggy pasta. I have arrived in various personal catastrophic stages; burned hair, bruised face, torn clothes so often my family only notices if I'm late. On the nights I arrive in disarray and Joe Morelli, a Trenton Police Detective and my on-again-off-again boyfriend, is at the table, I can guarantee he'll have undercutting comments.

Tonight I arrive with a dirty shirt and jeans. "Well, at least they are only dirty, not torn," he mutters.

I reframe from rolling my eyes and respond, "I was trying to get into my car but some jerk parked his muddy panel truck to close. I guess I rubbed up against it."

"Is that why there are twigs in your hair and scratches on your arms," my mother jumped in like a vulture coming to carrion.

"I was helping Mrs. Kaminski get her cat out of the hedges."

"Yeah right," Joe mumbles.

I turned and stared at Joe, "It's the truth" and it was for both stories. The only bounty I had caught all day was Mrs. Kaminski's cat and I didn't get paid for my generosity.

"I don't know why you can't have a lady-like job, like at the button factory or sanitary products factory," my mother moaned. "Young ladies should not be chasing after thugs with a gun."

For a moment I was confused. Did she mean armed thugs or me having a gun? "I hardly ever take my gun, mother," I replied I've heard her tirade for years and was tired of it. "Anyway, the last time I went for an interview at the sanitary products factory the boss said he'd hire me if I'd serve his sexual needs starting with a blow job."

My mother's mouth fell open.

"Why do you think there is always an opening, pardon the pun mother, for a personal assistant?" I shot back. "No decent woman will work there."

"Frank, did you hear what your daughter just said?"

My father has selective hearing in the house and is virtually deaf at the dinner table, "Huh?"

Grandma Mazur was enjoying this and gave me a wink when I looked at her.

I looked down at my meal, it was not Ranger friendly. Ranger was my friend, mentor and a man that could cause me to hyperventilate just by looking at me. The Cuban sex god had a muscle chiseled body and other manly attributes. With his superhuman senses, he easily reads my mind, can cut steel with his eyes and can kiss either passionately or so lightly a butterfly wing would not be disturbed. I am in love with him but due to his lifestyle, a committed relationship isn't in his cards. I know this and have been hurt many times, but I can't bring myself to run for the hills.

My mind is brought back to the meal; all Plum dinners are heavy on the meats, fats, and non-fibrous carbs. Salad is not in the Plum lexicon. Recognizable vegetables are used as garnish. Only four vegetables make it onto a Plum dinner: tomatoes, green peppers, onions and garlic usually cooked into gravy and served with pasta. When a family member has a special occasion, my mother rewards them by cooking their favorite meal. The granddaughters receive fried chicken with spaghetti or more recently waffles and honey; Valerie receives Oso Bucco with creamy noodles. Albert, Valerie's husband and father of the youngest beloved grandchildren loves chicken Parmesan with white rice. Tonight's meal is pot roast and mashed potatoes, my least favorite meal nearly always served on Friday. I wish the Catholics would go back to fasting; at least I would get macaroni and cheese.

Joe was at the table because my mother has deemed Joe and I will be married and if that means feeding Joe, it is money well invested. Actually Joe doesn't like pot roast either but loves a free meal. Before we can get to dessert, Joe's cell rings. He excuses himself, comes back a few minutes later and apologizes. Police business and he must leave. I can't remember the last time Joe and I finished a meal together before something interrupted us. Long ago I've learned he will now expect me to bring him his uneaten dessert and any leftover meat my mother wishes to share. Life is getting too predictable.

As I finished putting away the last dinner dish, my mother handed me the bag with dessert and left over pot roast for Joe. Obediently I take the bag directly to the Morelli house. My mood hasn't improved; perhaps it was PMS except it seems to have lasted weeks. I can't remember the last time I had a hearty laugh or actually looked forward to another day. OK, Ranger was in Boston for several weeks, maybe that's the reason.

Joe's truck was missing. Good. I let myself in and opened the refrigerator to put in the goody bag and found a complete ziti casserole curtesy of Joe's mother. Joe was not starving. I checked the rest of the refrigerator and found cold cuts and cheese in the pull out bin, actual fruit in the fruit bin, fresh milk and orange juice on the door, and 8 bottles of beer. Bob Dog and I stared at the ziti for a long time; finally I took out the pot roast, gave it to Bob and walked out the door with the dessert. I would have taken the ziti except I'd be expected to return the dish.

000

The noise was grating, I could have sworn someone was yelling in my ear. Perhaps they were; my mother is calling. I glance at the clock, 7:00 a.m. I'm too sleepy to worry about a medical emergency or perhaps she knows last Friday I gave the left over beef to the dog and kept the dessert.

"Stephanie, this is your mother calling. Today is Tuesday, your father's birthday. You promised to take your grandmother shopping so I can start cooking early."

"I'll be right over," I try to sound awake, but my face is still on the pillow. I get to the bathroom for an efficiency shower: just wet the hair, don't shampoo and wash only the necessary body parts. I finished in five minutes. The only benefit of this hour is I will be in time for breakfast.

I don't bother drying my hair, just pull it back in a scrunchy. The clothes drawer is almost empty; the undies don't match, the jeans from the closet floor were clean at some point. The t-shirt actually came from the drawer; laundry can be delayed another day or two.

My father's dinner menu will be as it has been for decades, Braciole with ingredients from Giovanchini's and Italian Cream cake from Italian People's Bakery. I chuckle to myself; Italian pot roast except his is stuffed with prosciutto, cheese and pine nuts.

I arrived at the family home early in the day expecting breakfast before taking Grandmother Mazur shopping. My mother will stay home and clean, though she cleaned the house yesterday and the day before. Once the groceries arrive, she'll retired to the kitchen for the day's duty; peel and chop the vegetables, prepare the filling, pound the meat and whatever else goes into Braciole. Unfortunately my breakfast plans were dashed, the women have already cleaned the kitchen and were anxious to get the day started; a gentle slap for another unknown transgression.

Before leaving I grabbed several cookies from the cookie jar, gathered my grandmother and head to the Giovanchini's market. Daddy deserves only the best provolone, prosciutto and real Italian pine nuts; not those from China that leave a funny metallic taste in his mouth. The Braciole requires a flank steak and in the Burg the best beef comes from Mr. Margola at the market.

" _Buongiorno_! What can I get you two lovely ladies today," boomed the voice from behind the meat display case.

Mr. Margola is slightly taller than me; possess a barrel chest, huge hands and arms, bald head with dark hair along the sides and back. His is somewhere between 30 and 65, there's no way of being more specific. His eyes are hazel, lips a bit puffy, Italian nose with the bump on the top.

Grandma Mazur responded, "We are making Brociole for my son in law's birthday. We need suitable beef."

"Ah, I have-a nice flank steak for you. Not many women make Braciole, they think it is difficult. How many servings you gonna need?"

I started counting; Mom, Dad, Grandma Mazur, me, maybe Joe, Valerie, Albert, the girls, left overs..."At least 12."

His eyes lit up, "You need two steaks!" After being shown the differences pieces, we asked him to select the perfect pieces. They all looked alike to me. After wrapping the meat in white butcher paper he asked, "Anything more for you lovely ladies today?"

I tried not to look into the meat display case; naked chickens, reddish grey beef liver, whitish brains, and items I didn't want to ask Grandma Mazur what they were. Maybe this is one reason I don't cook, the meat looks and feels disgusting.

We assured him that was it for today. Mr. Margola cheerfully said, "And wish Mr. Palumbo a happy birthday for me." Palumbo was close enough I thought.

As I put the steaks in our basket, the glass case in front of us was suddenly covered in a smashed egg. Splat. The yellow yolk and clear gel oozed down the glass. I whipped around and found myself staring at my nemesis, Grandma Bella Morelli, Joe's grandmother. In rapid succession several more eggs sailed in our direction but hit the display case, cracking open and oozing down onto the floor.

Dressed in black hosiery, black skirt, black sweater over a white blouse and a black head scarf fastened behind her ears allowing her old lady ear lobes to swing free, Bella was the Burg's stereotypical Old World grandmother. It doesn't matter if it is old world Italy, Sicily, Greece, Spain, Grandma Bella fits the mold. Only her white running shoes showed a New World influence.

Bella cackled like the wicked witch of the west, though her coloring was not green. Hefting a #3 tomato can from her grocery cart; she launched the behemoth can towards Grandma Mazur screaming " _Denti cadono"_. Bella must have been Sicily's shot put champion to put so much force behind the can. Instinctively I pushed my grandmother away from the giant can, not thinking about broken hips or clavicles.

The can missed us both but crashed through the meat display case, shattering the glass. A sound like a mad bull erupted from behind the counter. Mr. Margola spewed every Italian swear word I've ever heard and more I've yet to learn. He pushed through the door into the butchering area and was about to enter in the retail area when Bella launched two more eggs; both hitting the counter adding to the floor goo. Mr. Margola burst into the retail area waving his arms around and slipped on the mess. Resembling a cartoon character slipping on ice, his legs and arms flailing, Mr. Margola fell forward crashing his face onto the meat display cases' metal edge. Instantly his mouth filled with blood and he began spitting broken teeth. Bella's curse for broken teeth had come true, but I suspect on the wrong person.

Bella never stopped laughing and continued launching several more eggs, one hitting me in the temple. I was stunned for a moment and stumbled backward, tripping over Mr. Margola, my head bouncing on the tile floor . I lay on the tile floor admiring the flashing stars. The pain was excruciating and though the egg had cracked and the goo fallen onto my shoulder, I didn't notice. I was dealing with the pain.

I could hear Bella cackling and worried about Grandma Mazur and stumbled back onto my feet. Grandma Mazur was holding her own and was out for revenge. Reaching through the broken glass into the meat case, she grabbed a large piece of beef liver, and hurled it at Bella yelling in Hungarian " _Maj arc_." (Liver face). The wiggly organ meat hit Bella on the face, clung momentarily before sliding down towards her chest. I wanted to laugh. Instead I turned around and wrapped my arms around Grandma preventing her from launching more liver. A wet gooey splat on my back indicated Bella had returned the organ meat.

"Grandma please find a towel behind the counter for Mr. Margola," I suggested as I ignored the liver stuck to my blouse. Eventually the meat lost its grip and fell to the floor. Bella continued to cackle while I bent down to tend to Mr. Margola who was bleeding profusely.

Spectators were gathering not to aid Mr. Margola or to stop Bella, but as a Greek chorus ready to comment while the tragedy played out. I wasn't surprised to see Mrs. Spinoza's cell phone in hand, no doubt filming the whole incident. Like the choragus, she will be the main commentator, spreading the news through the Burg.

Angie Morelli, Bella's daughter in law, arrived to survey the damage standing with her hands on her hips trying to decide who was to blame. By now Bella was quiet with the angelic innocent "not me" look on her face. Mrs. Carmen Giovanni, one of the Burg's most pious and caring women broke through the gathering crowd to join me tending Mr. Margola. As she knelt down to help hold a towel for Mr. Margola, she turned to Angie Morelli, pointing to Bella, she screamed, " _Lei e diavolo." (_ She is the devil.) Several spectators crossed themselves or took their rosary beads from the purses and kissed them.

Grandma Bella responded by throwing her head back into _malocchio_ position, (the evil eye) and cursed me, " _Possono vostri organi ascuigare._ _Possiate maiavere figli._ As if that wasn't enough she redundantly added, _"Sarete_ _sterili,_ " then spat. I wasn't quite sure what Bella said other than the _organi_ and _sterili_ – organs and sterile. The ladies watching the spectacle gasped and again crossed themselves or kissed their beads.

I looked over to Mrs. Giovanni for translations. She whispered, "Since you are the only young woman here, she just condemned your organs to dry up and you will be sterile." I stood up, swung around and placed my hands on my hips mimicking Angie Morelli but said nothing. What could I say? I thought the finger, the bicep slap with an upraised fist, or the Italian chin flick was appropriate but the Morelli women were walking away and any gesture would be wasted.

As Mrs. Morelli dragged Bella away, the old lady away wiggled free; turned and pointing four fingers in our direction spat and cursed, " _Morte_." Holy cow, even I know that means "death."

Everyone who heard gasped, even Mr.. Margola. The observers once again crossed themselves, kissed their rosary beads, or crucifixes. Mrs. Morelli, momentarily stunned, crossed herself then slapped Bella on the head and pulled her towards the store front.

The gathering crowd parted like Moses moving through the Red Sea allowing the two Morelli women passage. Nobody wanted to stop them and risk Bella's _malocchio._

Before the Morellis had gone far, Grandma Mazur loudly barked in Hungarian, " _Isten bocsasson meg neked"_ and crossed herself.

I looked at my grandmother and tilted my head in a questioning gesture.

She replied, "It means may God forgive you. The old witch has just condemned her own soul with the _Morte_ curse."

Suddenly there's a thump and we turn to find Mrs. Giovanni flat on the floor. "She's dead," Mrs. Spinoze wailed and more hands fly from heads across chests and beads are kissed, but nobody thinks to help the fallen woman.

I reached down to the prone figure feeling for a pulse, praying I find one. I don't think any of the spectators here know CPR and though I'm not the most up to date, I would be forced to give it a try. I sigh with relief, "It's OK, I think she just fainted."

By the time the police and EMTs arrive a crowd has tripled inside the store and people gather around the outside wanting to know what happened. New spreads through the Burg faster than the speed of light. By the time the emergency vehicles arrive, I'm sure my mother has already received her first report.

Holding a bloody towel to his face, the EMTs lead Mr. Margola to the ambulance. Mrs. Giovanni is sitting up with an oxygen mask on her face but looking pale. A gurney is brought for her. TPD cop Eddie Gazarra, my cousin by marriage, was one of the first to arrive and began taking statements.

"I'll start with you Steph, what is your version?"

"Version?" I indignity asked.

"Steph, by the time I interview these other witnesses, I'll have numerous variations. Let's start with those initially involved."

I scrunched my eyes but kept my voice low so as not to add more fuel for the Burg hotline. "Before I begin, confiscate Mrs. Spinoza's cell phone, she was videoing everything."

"So let's start at the beginning," he said, knowing Mrs. Spinoza will have already sent the video to half the Burg.

"Grandma Mazur and I were buying meat when eggs started splattering on the meat display case..." When I got to the _Morte_ curse, Eddie's eyes raised just a bit. Even the seasoned cop was surprised.

"Let me get this straight, your grandmother didn't start this by throwing liver at Mrs. Morelli?" he asked.

I sighed, "Eddie, the glass had to be broken to get to the liver. Bella broke the glass with that tomato can sitting on top of…..whatever that is in the case."

Eddie looked over and scrunched his nose, "Sweetbreads."

"Do I dare ask what they are?"

He shook his head, "No."

"I nailed her but good; right on the kisser." Grandma Mazur puffed up. "I still have an accurate throw, better than Bella's, she only hit Stephanie once. The others hit the counter. She must be strong though, that big tomato can flew like a fast ball."

"And what did you do?" Eddie said going back over my statement. I had already told him everything, this was a cop thing.

"Nothing."

"Nothing, that doesn't sound like you," he said.

"The air was still blue from Mr. Margola's swearing before he fell, I didn't want to further pollute Jersey's _clean_ air," I replied. "Watch the video."

Grandma Mazur spoke up, "Bella hit her in the head with one of the eggs, it knocked her out."

Eddie looked at the side of my head, "Hate to say it, but this might leave a goose egg," he snickered.

"Very funny."

"Goes nicely with the liver bits still suck on your back," he continued.

I jumped ahead in the story; "When Bella turned around threw the death curse, Mrs. Giovanni fainted. At first we thought she was dead, but I felt a pulse. None of the spectators gave any aid, they just watched."

Eddie was taking notes but I also knew he was recording our conversation on his lapel camera/recorder. "And then?" he asked.

"As Angie Morelli was walking Bella out of the store, grandma yelled at her in Hungarian. It wasn't a curse, it was asking God to forgive her for casting the _Morte_ curse. I'm sure others here think it was a new insult."

Eddie shook his head, "You and your grandmother might want to take a vacation for a while; Alaska, Bermuda, Atlantic City."

"Why? This isn't my fault."

"Steph, between the gossip, you mother, Bella, Joe….speaking of Joe…." he trailed off as the hot TPD detective moved into the store.

The spectators parted again as if Moses was returning allowing Joe passage. I could swear some spectators were smiling in anticipation of another spectacle this time between Joe and me. More cells phones were held high.

There was a time I would be panting watching the luscious hunk of Italian come through the pack. Yes he was still lovely; dark hair, muscles and a certain swagger, but his charms were growing stale. "What did you do this time Cupcake?"

"Me?" I sneered. "It was your grandmother" and I give him a brief recap. When I get to the part about dried up reproductive organs he broke into laughter, "Does this mean I don't need to use a condom anymore?"

I stood and stared at him unbelieving he's laughing! Mr. Margola will probably need extensive dental work and may have a broken jaw. Mrs. Giovanni fainted or may have had a heart attack. Grandma Mazur could have been hit by the tomato can, and my head was still ringing. All Joseph Morelli cares about is his sex life? My mind flashes to the many times I've been nearly blown up by exploding cars, sliced, diced, shot or drowned by crazy people only to be verbally abused afterwards by Joe often in full view of spectators and other cops.

Where is his concern for me or others? Has being a cop turned him cold so all he cares about are "the boys?" My face turns read, it is all I can do to keep my arms by my side. I'm not going to go into full rhino mode here in Giovanchini's market. "You think this is funny, Joe? Has being a cop killed your compassion? Your grandmother's action severely hurt Mr. Margola and maybe Mrs. Giovanni. Your grandmother threw a giant can at Grandma Mazur that could have caused even more injury. To top it off, she cast a _Morte_ curse on us. Four people Joe: Mr. Margola, Mrs. Giovanni, Grandma Mazur and me. Your grandmother is crazy, no, she is evil. You Morelli men are her spawn, not something to be proud."

Before I could add more including his embarrassing me about the dried up organs and he surely wouldn't tolerate me laughing about "the boys," his face turned red. I went too far disparaging his grandmother as well as his family in public. It is exactly what the rest of the Burg has done for years, but never directly to a Morelli.

In an instant, his fist reached my face. Before I could register its movement, it makes contact and I fall back into the bread display. Eddie grabs Joe's arm, "Stop it Joe!" Eddie screams. Joe spins with anger in his eyes and swings at Eddie who dodges the swing and is able to pin Joe's right arm behind his back. "Settle down Joe, Cool It." Joe seems to relax and Eddie lets him loose. Joe looks over at me and glares, but moves away out of the store. Once again the crowd separates as they are stunned at what they just saw. Maybe the Morelli golden boy was more like his father than anyone thought.

I couldn't believe Joe hit me. He's never done anything like this; usually his face turns red, he throws his arms around and he yells. My eyes are wide along with several onlookers. I think I notice a few more crucifixes were being kissed.

Eddie shakes his head knowing he'll have to write up Joe's battery on me and his attempted battery on a fellow policeman. There was an audience, Eddie's lapel camera and probably more videos soon to be updated to the web. This won't be swept under the rug. Quite the contrary, this will roar like a flame thrower through the Burg.

Eddie comes over and helps me back up, "You might consider Australia," he whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **Mother ironing**

Grandma Mazur had our grocery basket in one hand and with her other led me to to the checkout counter.

"It's OK, Grandma, I can walk."

Margarita the clerk just shook her head, glanced up at me, but said nothing. I was still stunned from the egg to the temple, head bouncing on the floor, and from Joe's fist. I could care less about the mess on my clothing, I've had worse. A big dark shadow fell over Grandma and me; it was Tank, second in command of Rangeman Security. "I'll drive," he said quietly. Bink, one of the younger Rangeman men was nearby and grabbed the grocery sacks.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as we walked towards his big black SUV.

"The men monitoring the police calls said you were having trouble."

"My name was on the police scanner…again?" I cringed inside.

"Not directly, more like a code letting Joe Morelli know. How do you think he and Ranger manage to show up so soon after your mishaps?"

"So with Ranger in Boston, you are his stand in?"

"Baby Girl, each time he leaves he tells you to call me if you need help. My job is to make certain you are alright. Keeping you safe requires advance planning. This is a case of "shit happens."

I could tell his anger was being kept under control with very thin threads but I didn't know if it was pointed at me or others.

"Give your keys to Bink, he'll drive your car," Tank said tersely.

"Good thing Ranger is in Boston," I remarked thinking Joe would be mush by now.

"Yeah, but I still had to broadcast a warning to other Rangeman to keep hands off of Joe. Let the justice system work." He then looked at me with compassion, "Are you hurt? You look pale."

"Maybe more shocked than hurt," I muttered.

Tank handed my car keys to Bink and said to him, "We will meet you at the Plum house."

Before we left the parking lot, Grandma remembered the Italian Crème Cake. Tank graciously drove first to Italian People's Bakery. I wasn't going in so he volunteered to accompany Grandma inside.

"Do you want anything?" Grandma asked.

Since I wasn't seeing double and no blood was leaking from my head, I answered, "No nothing." If I wasn't still stuck in the land of denial, I might have worried about Tank's safety from Grandma's pinches.

When they exited the bakery Grandma had her arm around Tank's. It was cute then I realized he was holding her hand to keep it away from his buttocks. Tank helped Grandma Mazur into her seat then went around to the driver's side and leaned back over the front seat, "I should take you to the hospital for your head."

"No, no, no! I've bumped my head before. I was never really out, just admiring the stars for a bit."

"Then let Bobby run the concussion protocol on you."

"I'm not dizzy. I'm not seeing double or blurry vision, no ringing in my ears, no vomiting." I gave the date and year, my location, my family members, high school attended. "Do you want me to tap dance too?"

"Can you?" he asked.

"Not since I was four nor can I play the piano or violin."

He grumbled a bit, said something about smart ass, then said, "If there is any change, no matter what, call immediately, promise?"

"Yes, I promise." I was pissed at Grandma mentioning the fall but also relieved somebody cared about me.

My car was already in front of my mother's house. Bink stood guard as if someone would actually want a sun bleached, half rusted Mercury. Tank carried the groceries into the house. As he left he quietly said, "You need to put some ice on your jaw, Baby Girl."

"Yeah, OK, thank you for ….the ride and taking Grandma to the bakery."

The house smelled of hot ironed clothes. My mother was in the kitchen ironing her anger away. "A simple request, go to the store. And the two of you end up knocking out Mr. Margola, killing Mrs. Giovanni and cursing the Morelli men including Joseph."

"Can it Helen," my grandmother shot back. "When are you going to stop listening to the Burg lies?" My mother looked up surprised. It is not often Grandma chastises her daughter.

Grandma Mazur sat down at the table. I brought the cookie jar, cups and the coffee pot. Reaching into the freezer I grabbed for a bag of peas to use as a cold compress. What was I thinking? This was the Plum house. There are no peas in the freezer. Instead I grabbed several ice cubes, wrapped them in a tea towel and placed it alternatively against my jaw, temple, and back of my head. Mother brought her glass of "ice tea:" Jack Daniels on the rocks and it was not yet noon. We each ate an oatmeal cookie in silence. With the second cookie Grandma Mazur detailed what had happened.

"When are you going to get a cell phone with video so you can actually see what happened instead of listening to second hand reports and lies? Bella was throwing eggs at us; maybe at Stephanie or maybe me. I don't know. The eggs splattered on the meat display case and fell to the floor. She then launched a giant tomato can at us; it broke the glass on the case. Mr. Margola came out from behind cursing and slipped on the egg slick floor. He fell onto the meat case's metal edge, face first. His mouth is a mess, broken teeth, maybe a broken jaw."

My mother said nothing.

Grandma Mazur continued, "Bella threw more eggs, one hit Stephanie in the head, see the yolk on her shoulder. She fell backwards over Mr. Margola and lay unconscious on the floor. I grabbed some liver through the broken glass and hit Bella in the face. It was childish, I know but it felt so good. She threw it back and hit Stephanie in the back. Look at her blouse."

My mother looked and moaned, "I'll never get that stain out."

I stared at her with my mouth open. She wasn't concerned about a concussion, no sympathy, no anger, she only cares about her laundry.

Grandma must have had the same thought as she stared at her daughter before continuing, "Angie Morelli arrived but did nothing to help Mr. Margola nor did the spectators, maybe five or six women including that harpy Mrs. Spinoza. Finally Carmen Giovanni came forward to help and yelled at Angie that her mother in law was the devil. Before Angie could get a hold of Bella, the witch cursed your daughter to be sterile."

My mother gasped, "Sterile?" I'm not sure she believes in curses, but any chance I might not give her grandchildren is a tragedy.

"Angie finally began taking Bella away but the old lady pulled away, looked at the four of us, threw back her head, pointed with four fingers, and spat the death curse, _Morte_."

My mother gasped again and crossed herself.

Grandma also crossed herself and continued with her recital, "I slipped into Hungarian and asked God to forgive Bella. Carmen fainted but was sitting up talking to the EMTs before they took her to the hospital. Nobody else moved to help, the useless bitches."

My eyes opened wide, Grandma Mazur does not curse or only mildly. Pausing, Grandma sipped her coffee.

"What about the Morelli men?" my mother asked quietly.

"Joseph walked in all cocky and started laughing about the incident saying if Stephanie becomes sterile he won't need a condom, right in front of all those women. He had no concern for the injured, never asked if Stephanie was hurt, he laughed. The Morelli men are worthless trash, Joseph is no different from any other Morelli men. He then hit Stephanie right there in the store and swung at Eddie. Eddie should have arrested him, but Joe was out the door. Is that the type of man you want for your daughter? You want your daughter to be another Morelli abused wife? I say good riddance to the whole lot."

"Maybe she deserved it," my mother offered.

I jumped up, sending my chair crashing to the floor. "What did you say?" I glared at her.

Grandma Mazur grabbed my hand before my mouth started flapping further.

"If it hadn't been for Eddie, she'd be missing teeth or worse, Helen."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to hit her, not Joseph." My mother whined. "He'll forgive her."

My grandmother sat there furious, "Helen Mazur Plum, he made a fist and hit her, it wasn't a slap. He could and should lose his job. He should be begging Stephanie's forgiveness. He's a horse's patoot, no...he's a horse's ass. Friday after Friday he sits in the dining room eating Plum food while criticizing your daughter. I hope Stephanie finally kicks his sorry ass to the curb. If this were my house I'd never let him past the front door."

My mother wailed, "What will I say to Angie? Who is going to marry Stephanie now?"

"Helen, she married once to someone you thought was proper and he turned out to be an unfaithful jerk. Now you want her to marry an abuser? You've been trying to run her life for years. She's an adult; let her live her own life. Get your own life in order instead."

My mother glared at her, "What do you mean, get my own life in order?"

"You are an alcoholic. Nobody buys your "ice tea" charade."

"Do you blame me?"

"Yes, if you had been concentrating on your own life and marriage, not meddling into hers and Valerie's, you wouldn't need your "ice teas."

"It's not easy with you here, you know," my mother shot back."

Grandma Mazur got up, went to the phone and pulled it from the wall, threw it across the room against the floor, and went upstairs. The hard plastic covering fell from the phone's internal parts. I hoped there was more damage, but I doubted it. Those old phones were indestructible; probably a little duct tape or Gorilla Glue and it would be fine again.

I listened to Grandma Mazur stomp up the stairs. I hadn't sat down, but leaned over the table, looked into my mother's slightly blurry eyes and said, "Just so you are clear, it is over between Joe and me. O-V-E-R! He hit me, hit me in public! I'm finished with his berating me, embarrassing me. It's over; let him find some other woman to knock around and knock up, it's not me. As for you and me, saying I deserved to be hit went way beyond the line. I will not be coming to dinner tonight or any night in the future nor will I be stopping by to have lunch. Do not bring anymore Burg rejects to dinner in hopes of finding me a husband because I will not be here. There isn't enough pineapple upside down cake, chocolate cake or pudding to get me back to your table."

I went upstairs and knocked on my Grandmother's door. When I opened it I saw her with a photo album in her lap, "I was hoping you'd come see me."

I sat beside her on the bed and hugged her, "I came to see if you were alright and to thank you."

"No sweetheart, I should have spoken up sooner. I was hoping you'd get your life together and realize you don't need her running your life. You were such an independent thing but suddenly you lost your confidence. I was looking at these pictures remembering what you were, and what you became."

I looked down and Grandma had pictures of Valerie and me, but far more of me. "Why are there so many pictures of me?" I asked.

"You are my favorite. You were so independent and you had dreams, like me. Life in Hungary was difficult. The government was in a mess but then so was so much of Europe after World War I so my family came here with only hope in their pockets. I was the first to be born here. I was too young to work in the factories in Newark during World War II but I remember the rationing of food, gasoline, collecting scrap metal, old cooking fat to become explosives, newspapers, lumber, collecting cattail fiber for gas mask filters. We saved everything, made due with little. In school my parents kept telling me to work hard and be someone; a doctor or nurse, a professor or teacher. But my father died building ships for the war effort and my mother got sick a year before I graduated from high school. I had to take care of her. When she died, I had nothing. I went to work at a bakery and eventually met your grandfather. We married. I was a wife and eventually a mother."

I had never heard my grandmother talk about her life. It sounded sad, how did she remain so upbeat? "Did you like being a wife and mother?"

"I loved my husband, he was a pip. He worked hard and provided for our two daughters and me. First your aunt Marta came and then Helen. Marta was like a free bird. She did well for so many years. She became a stewardess and flew all over the world before the taxi accident in Paris. Helen was like her father, buried here in the Burg and tradition. She had no spark. I never knew what Frank saw in her, he was just out of the Army and Viet Nam, maybe he was looking for stability."

"But were you happy, Grandma?"

"Maybe if I went to college I would have hated my career. I might never have met my husband and…you wouldn't be here beside me. I am happy the way things turned out. I have two fine granddaughters and four great-granddaughters. Life has many different roads; nobody should tell you which road to choose. We determine the road and how happy we are when we get there. I am happy."

Turning back to the photo album she pointed to pictures of Aunt Marta and my mother. I looked like Marta, same blue eyes, but I got the Italian hair.

"Was she a handful like me?" I asked.

Grandma Mazur chuckled. "We had a black and white television. Marta would watch all the westerns, Roller Derby, wrestling and even Friday night fights. She loved action. After her stick horse phase like you and Mary Alice, she went into roller skates. This was back when the skates attached to shoes and often fell off. Poor Marta had perennial skinned knees and elbows, but she'd just laugh and keep going. In the winter we built an Indian village in the basement and would play for hours. Your mother stayed in her room dressing and undressing her dolls or playing on her toy kitchen. Marta loved the Beatles and all the English bands. She said she was going to live in England where all the cool people lived."

Grandma turned the pages. "Marta never married. She had many boyfriends but wanted her freedom. She didn't so much enjoy being a stewardess; she said it was a glorified waitress job in the sky. What she loved was seeing the world. Here, see the post cards she sent: Rome, Paris, London, Buenos Aires, Cairo, and Oslo. She took me to Amsterdam and we saw the women in the windows, the canals, and the tulips. It was lovely."

"Women in the windows, you mean mannequins?" I asked.

"Prostitutes advertised themselves by standing or sitting in the bordello windows to lure clients," she chuckled. Turning back to the album, "You were so much like Marta, tomboy, independent. I dreamed you too would see the world like Marta and you were on your way, until…"

I knew what she was talking about. I could see it in the photos. As a young child I was all curls and attitude. Valerie was beaming in her party dress with the big bow and I looked like I was ready to shred my dress with my hands. My knees were constantly skinned, my hair was a frizzed mess from home permanents trying to straighten the natural curl, and my expression was a scowl. My mother insisted I participate in "lady-like activities" such as tap dance, ballet, both of which I failed miserable. My last attempt to placate my mother was baton twirling. There I was in my white boots, tall hat, and short skirt moments before I lost the baton in the trombone section and was nearly decapitated by the trombone slides. Just a few months later I got a job at Tasty Pastry and had my encounter with Joe Morelli. I didn't think losing my virginity to him behind the pastry counter affected me that much but the pictures said otherwise. I had not only lost my virginity and innocence but also my self-worth. Joe had written about our exploits on the stadium walls. I became a target for every horny high school boy, "You put out for Joe Morelli you need to put out for me." In a way I became the woman in the window providing entertainment for the Burg. From my failed career with EE Martin, my failed marriage to Dickie Orr, my bounty hunter job and on-again off-again relationship with Joe, I am a failure. I threw my arms around my grandmother, "What am I going to do?"

"You took it today. You finally stood up to Joe. I don't know what you said to your mother after I left, but it's time for you to totally leave her nest and cold heart. Don't surrender your life to being something you can't be. Fly free and if that means leaving the Burg and Trenton, so be it. I want to leave this life knowing you are happy just like Marta was happy."

"What about you Grandma?"

"It's time I move on…"

"Grandma, NO!"

"No Stephanie, to the senior living facility. Mabel Jeruski has asked me to room with her to cut costs. She has a two bedroom apartment. She's a lot more fun than your mother. The only problem is I won't see your hot young men, especially Ranger. Now there's a hunk of a man with a fine package, of course the big black guy kinda takes my breath away too."

"Tank?"

"Oh yeah, supersize."

"What about mama?"

"She has Johnny Walker and Jim Beam to keep her company. Your father will be happy, maybe he might help with my rent!"

"If I had the money, I'd help you," I sniffed.

"I know dear."

Leave the Burg? Leave Trenton? In the past that sounded impossible, now maybe it was the only answer.

A/N: Thank you for your reviews. Your questions and comments keep me on track. Eleni


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 ** _El Perdido_** **, The Lost**

I headed to the bail bonds office to get away from my mother and her ironing board only to be greeted by Lula and Connie. "Is that where Joe hit you?" Connie asked looking at my jaw. Apparently the market incident has sprouted wings and blown through the Burg.

I sighed, "Yeah, how bad it is?"

"If you keep using ice, it won't be too bad. You've had worse," Lula said.

"Did you really call Joe evil spawn?" Connie asked.

There was no use asking her how she knew, this was the Burg, the Trenton's gossip central. Outside of the bowling alley, VFW hall, Elks, Knights of Columbus and the local bars, entertainment was lean, especially for the "little woman at home." Female interaction was through beauty salons, stores and markets, as well as weddings or baby showers.

"No, I called Bella evil and Joe and his family were her spawn."

Both Lula's and Connie's eyebrows shot up and Connie crossed herself. Geez, there's been enough hand flying today to qualify for Mass. I thought it best not to tell them about my mother and I having a blow up. Even my mother might be hesitant to talk about it...for a few days.

Looking around I saw an empty doughnut box, "Darn, I need support; after all, my reproductive organs are drying up and Mr. Margola, Mrs. Giovanni, my grandmother and I are going to die."

Lula brightened up, "Well, if death is imminent, Cluck in a Bucket or margaritas?"

Yeah, we were on the same wavelength, when stress hits, fall back and eat or drink. I knew drinking lunch was a bad idea especially since I hadn't had breakfast, but how much worse could my day get? "Want to join us Connie?"

"What about the office?" she asked.

"Hey Vinnie," I called. My weasel-looking cousin stuck his head out the door. "Hey Steph, I hear you are now sterile."

I flicked my middle finger to him. "Too bad you weren't there to be blessed by Bella."

Vinnie shut his eyes and shivered, "That lady is..."

"Evil?" I asked. "Be careful calling her that, she might cause your balls to fall off."

Vinnie went pale.

Connie interjected, "We are going for lunch and to get drunk. You may have to bail us out later."

"At least call cabs. It's OK to be drunk, but don't drive anywhere. You might get hurt or kill someone."

I blinked a few times. Vinnie was showing concern? Obviously the comment about his testicles caused a brain lock. "Thanks Cuz" I said.

As we slid into Lula's Firebird Connie said, "Vinny is only worried about money. We could do serious damage to his business' insurance rates."

Lula spoke up, "No, he's also worried about is balls falling off. He'd have nothing to do back in his office."

I did a mental shudder. ICK!

We parked next to a new restaurant and bar, _El Perdido_. I looked at the name, how appropriate, the lost or the damned.

We found a booth near the back and snuggled in. "Ladies, what may I get you?" The blonde blue eyed waiter needed to be carded; he was too young to be serving alcohol. Or was I that old? Maybe my reproductive organs were starting to shrivel.

Connie took over the ordering, "We will have a pitcher of margaritas and something to eat." Her seductive smile had him wondering if he'd be on the menu. There was relief on his face when Connie said, " _Huaraches_ and _flautas_ to start, and _arroz con pollo_ for all."

I looked at her; the bill was going to be horrendous.

"My treat," Connie said. "Now I want to hear everything that happened in the market, spare no detail. I have a big family; all will want to know."

"You haven't seen the video?" I was fishing to determine if Mrs. Spinoza actually posted to Facebook.

"Oh sure, several different videos, but the sound didn't catch everything. I want to know what was said."

As we gulped our first drinks, I had to retell everything, in detail…twice. Originally I forgot to include Grandma Mazur's asking for God's forgiveness for Bella's _Morte_ curse so retold the story a second time.

"Your grandmother is a fine woman," Connie said, "She enjoys life but keeps everything in perspective." We toasted Grandma Mazur with another pitcher.

I then mentioned Eddie Gazarra suggesting I seek refuge from the Morellis, maybe in Alaska or Australia.

"Do you think the Morellis have any relatives in Alaska?" Lula asked. We stopped and wondered. "It's too cold there; maybe I ought to go to Australia," I answered. We ordered another pitcher and toasted Sydney.

After nearly three hours and an unknown number of margarita pitchers, Connie announced she had to leave and get back to the office. I looked at our driver, Lula, and realized none of us should be driving anything.

"I'll call a crab," Connie slurred and she pulled out her cell phone. I wondered if she was going for seafood, surely she wasn't still hungry. Out came the credit card, she held true to her promise and paid the bill.

Lula and I still had half a pitcher left and we were not wasting the margaritas. Our waiter brought us a pitcher of water, "Ladies, you will feel better tomorrow if you drink this now." He was right of course. I also believe it was his gentlemanly way of saying, "You've had too much and it is time to go."

I was half way through my second glass of water when Cal and Ram walked into the restaurant and sat down with us. Cal began, "Fifth floor says your purse has been living here though your car is back at the office."

"Yeah, I've had a lousy day.

"We know. I'm here to make sure you've stopped drinking for the day," Cal said.

"Tank sent you?"

"No, Bobby did."

"Bobby the medic is guarding my sliver," I slurred. "Have you seen the video?"

"Initially we heard about it on the police scanner. The cops have a special code for you and your mishaps. That's why Ranger and Morelli are so quick to the scene."

"My own special code?" I was trying to figure out what number I was, praying I wasn't 69.

"Code BB, Bombastic Bounty-Hunter," Ram added.

"Phew, I thought I was 10-69."

Cal thought a minute, "That would work; usually that's a miscellaneous code."

"No, no, Code BB is fine. What about the video."

"Hector saw it first. Tank was downstairs talking with Hector when it came through and could talk the guy down right away. Otherwise Joe would be mincemeat and Hector on his way to some South American jungle to hide."

I put my elbows on the table and placed my head in my hands, "Hector, Hector…"

Ram took over, "Bomber, you were great. You were calm, trying to control the situation. There was a building full of men on Haywood who were heading out to pound the shit out of Morelli until Tank grabbed us back."

Nothing escapes the Burg when it comes to me and my mishaps. I'm surprised there isn't a town crier on every street corner keeping the population up to date. Actually there are: Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Lula turned to me, "Well then Girlfriend, I guess it is time to call it a day." Rummaging around in her purse she pulled out her giant Glock 37 and laid it on the table. Ram grabbed it and hid it before anyone else saw it. "I have my wallet in here somewhere…" Out came a cosmetic bag, cell phone, box of tissues, box of .45 cartridges, stun gun, and her car keys. Ram grabbed the last three items and hid them. Finely she found her wallet that was nearly as large as her purse. She threw a wad of cash on the table as an extra tip, repacked her bag minus what Ram was hiding then scooted out of the booth right onto her ass and farted.

"Uh Oh," she said. "I think I broke my shoe."

"No, you broke something else," I said calmly.

I noticed Ram suppressing a laugh. Her shoes were fine, just her balance was broken. Ram helped her to her feet and told her he'd drive her home in her car. He already had the keys. I looked to where he stashed the giant hand gun, ammunition and stunner, but couldn't see them on him. Did he just absorb them?

Cal sat patiently as I finished two more glasses of water and added still more cash for the extra tip. We did nest for nearly 4 hours. "How much did you hear on the videos?" I asked Cal. Out of all the Rangeman employees he was the one I could talk to about anything.

He shook his head, "The sound was lousy, mostly the crazy lady cackling and some Italian and whatever your grandmother said. We couldn't hear what Joe said but the punch on you and swing on Eddie were clear. Word around town is you called Morelli evil spawn."

I laughed out loud. "No, that's a B-grade movie. I just called Bella evil and Joe her spawn, though evil spawn might be closer. The Morelli men have been cheaters, beaters and drunks. I thought Joe was different. It may have all come from Bella. She has made my life miserable with _malocchio_ , evil eye and spells." I began to cry. I went from laughing to crying in a short period. I was drunk.

"You don't believe in her spells do you?" Cal asked quietly.

"Whenever she casts a spell, things go crazy; boils, pimple, crazy sexual urges. Now she has condemned a bunch of us to death, but first I have to endure my reproductive organs drying up," I sniffed and wiped my nose with the back of my hand.

Cal blushed. He's such a gentle soul.

"Word is Joe turned himself in at the station. At least he didn't hit the bars first. He was arrested but was able to post bond quickly though he is on indefinite suspension pending more investigation."

"Who bailed him out?"

"Lee Sebring. Vinnie turned it down. Conflict of interest, Joe assaulted you, Vinnie's agent."

"What about Bella?"

"Joe took her to the station. So far she's only been charged with reckless endangerment and property damage for the broken meat case and all the meat inside. The butcher will have to file assault charges. Bomber, you should file a complaint against Joe. It will firm up the case otherwise he could skip with domestic abuse."

I felt bad because I did get carried away disparaging his family. Also, I'd have to testify in court, adding yet another spectacle for the Burg grapevine. I was drunk enough the thought of court sent a tear down my cheek.

"Come on," he said gently, "Time to go." He helped me out of the booth and wrapped his arm around my waist as my legs were rubbery. He might have thrown me over his shoulder except first, it would embarrass me and second, I'd probably hurl down his boots. Once outside he leaned me up against the black Rangeman SUV in the parking lot as he opened the door. My legs dissolved underneath me, I fell to the ground flat onto my back.

I was looking up at the twilight sky marveling at all the pretty colors; pink, orange, and purple. Cal's face appeared above me, "Oh Geez, Bomber are you alright?" Then another face appeared, Ranger's. By the twilight glow, the Cuban Sex God shone down on me like a celestial presence.

"Babe."

Normally I'm pretty good at deciphering the "Babe" meaning. Tonight I think it was filled with concern, but I wasn't sure. I was flat on my back, drunk in _El Perdido's_ parking lot. I truly was the lost one.

"It's been a really bad day Ranger."

"So I've heard. How can I help?"

"Knock me up."

His eyes sparkled and his mouth slightly smiled.

"Not here, Babe."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **A/N: Last chapter's** ** _El Perdido_** **was a restaurant in Breckenridge, CO where I fell in love with the man who became my husband.**

 **After last chapter's fun, things get a bit more serious.**

 **Ranger POV**

I woke up at my usual 04:30, but there was no Stephanie. Her jeans were gone but everything else remained. Her messenger bag was still here, she could not have gotten far.

I called down to 5. "Did Stephanie leave?"

Hal answered, "She tried. We watched her leave your apartment and go down to her car. It was like she was sleepwalking. She couldn't find her gate fob or car key so I carried her back to your office. She's there now."

"Did she say anything?"

"Yes, but I'll tell you in private," Hal answered.

I wasn't aware Babe suffered from somnambulism. I put on sweat pants and a t-shirt and flip flops and went down to 5th floor. Hal met me in the stair well.

"At first she wasn't responsive, but when I opened her car door, she started sobbing saying she's a whore, keeping two beds warm and how she's going to hell. When I got her to your office and onto the couch, she went back to sleep and has been quiet ever since."

"I'll take her back upstairs." Babe was sound asleep and didn't stir and I picked her up and carried her back to bed in my apartment.

I'd have to talk to Bobby tomorrow about this nocturnal walk-about. Was it stress, was it the alcohol? Thank heavens she was being monitored.

000

 **Stephanie POV**

 **A little smutty...**

Waking up in Ranger's bed, I don't feel as bad as I should. The bedside clock read 8:30; it is neither too early nor too late. My mind wandered back over the previous day. "A simple request, do the grocery shopping" my mother said had turned into another disaster. This time Mr. Margola and Mrs. Giuseppe are facing medical costs, my reproductive organs are going to dry up, my mother and I are on the outs, but most of all I missed my father's birthday and the Italian Crème cake. Joe and I are off for good or at least I feel it is over. The Merry Men and probably Ranger are ready to bury Joe in some unmarked grave, burn Bella at the stake, and yeah, I embarrassed myself in front of Ranger again. There was something else, waking up in Ranger's office, but I couldn't quite remember. After such an exhausting list, my head really did hurt. Perhaps it was my head getting banged around or maybe the margaritas. I needed at least aspirin or...

Ranger came in with the Cure. That man really does have ESP. The smell of warm French fried made my stomach rumble in anticipation, not nausea. My eyes were shut as he gently tickled the bottom of my nose with several fries. Automatically my mouth opened, like a baby to the nipple. Ranger carefully inserted two fries into my mouth and kissed my forehead. My revelry was interrupted by the bed sagging as Ranger sat down next to me. I moaned and opened my eyes and found myself staring into those luscious chocolate eyes. "You always know what I need."

His eyes sparkled, "You hurt my ego. I'm now second to French fries and Coke?"

Yipes! I thought Coke and fries were the Cure, throw in Ranger, smelling of Bulgari, just inches from my face and I was suddenly sober.

"We need to talk," he said in a low, thick voice as he caressed my cheek avoiding the bruised side.

I knew what I wanted to do with him and it wasn't talk. He was already dressed for work with his t-shirt that left not a micro-millimeter of space beneath the fabric and his sculpted chest, shoulders, arms, abs…..yipes! The little evil in me thought I could get those clothes off without even touching them. Taking up the Coke I began licking the straw sensuously and slowly as my eyes bore into his. Did I notice a slight change in those eyes?

"Babe."

Oh good, I was having an effect on him. My mouth moved to the straw tip and I began slowly sucking up the liquid and alternated with licking the straw. I moaned in ecstasy. It wasn't a ploy, the cold cola was settling my stomach.

He didn't move, his breathing didn't change, but his eyes dilated a bit. He was like a predator, waiting for the prey to come closer or become distracted. Only his eye pupils moved, growing larger. I wasn't looking any lower, I had my own action going on down below.

I took a French fry and put the tip into my mouth and held it before slowly sucking it into my mouth and moaned. I've never be stalked by an animal predator but watching his eyes I couldn't help but think of a panther about to pounce. Suddenly he lurched forward and wrapped his mouth around the French fry. His left hand had grabbed the Coke container to keep it from falling and without breaking our lip lock he set the container back onto the bedside table and pushed me back. The fries were in my lap and were about to get squashed. Oh decisions protect the fries or allow Ranger to continue?

Fortunately I didn't have to make the decision; he moved the fry box to the side as he swung his leg over me. His kisses started north on my lips, lingered for a long time on and in my mouth, then started down my neck. I don't remember getting undressed last night but I did recognize Ranger's t-shirt covering my body. He pushed the shirt up to my neck as his lips traveled south tasting the nipple summits before continuing south my navel's depth. As Ranger's mouth and hands explored my geography, I was stuffing French fries in my mouth. This was new, Ranger and French fries. I was getting hotter. By the time his kisses got to the Dark Forest Ranger mumbled, "Lose the fries, I don't want you to choke."

He was right of course. I was so primed, I had actually forgotten about the fries. I was still in orgasmic aftershocks when he moved back up towards my mouth and smirked, "Bet your fries are cold."

"What fries?" I asked blankly.

He smiled and glanced at the clock. "I did want to talk about yesterday and earlier this morning, but now it will have to wait until this evening."

"Can you give me a clue?"

"No. It will take time, time I don't have now."

He rose up off the bed, bent over and kissed my forehead, nose and mouth. "Please be safe, the Burg vibes are stronger today."

I reached up and wiped his mouth, chin and cheeks. He looked at me questioning my motherly attention.

"Think where they've recently been," I smiled a very satisfied smile.

He smiled his thousand watt smile, "Be safe and don't go crazy."

Well, I didn't get him out of his clothes, who said that was second best. WOW! I zapped the remaining fries in the microwave and finished them along with the cola. As I ate I thought about what just happened and the Burg vibes? What did he mean what happened earlier this morning?

Ranger and I usually did not engage in sex when I was in a relationship with Joe. I tried very hard to keep the two separate. I've slipped up from time to time, but generally I've been pretty loyal. Yet less than 24 hours after the Giovanchini market incident I'm back in Ranger's bed. As pleasurable as it is, this isn't right. A voice plays in my mind, "... _whore keeping two beds warm_ …" Whoa, where did that thought come from?

Then there were the vibes as Ranger called them. Was Ranger planning retribution on the Morellis? Perhaps the Morellis, beyond Joe, were primed for retribution on me? What would my life be if Joe lost his job? Sure he hit me but I did blow my own cool. How much more gossip could I take? Maybe Eddie and my grandmother were right, I should be far away. But first I needed money and that meant back to work.

I padded off to the bathroom for a shower. Ranger, Bulgari, Coke and fries there was no way I could have a hangover, but I did still have a headache. I needed Tylenol.

Fortunately I had extra clothes in Ranger's closet. They were mainly Rangeman uniforms but I did find a clean white low cut t-shirt to go with the black yoga pants.

My hair actually cooperated so I didn't need to pull it up with a band once it was dry. No zits or other blemishes from my encounter with Bella yesterday. The bruise from where Joe hit me wasn't the worst I've had. There was makeup in a basket under the sink from previous visits to this apartment….and probably the need to hide previous bruises. Concealer and a light foundation helped with the bruise. I figured today was an eyeliner, light shadow and three layers of mascara day. After all, Ranger did mention the "vibes." A fierce mask might be a good defense. No doubt there would be blow back from yesterday at the market. Before I left the bathroom I looked carefully, "Babe, you are looking good!" I said to myself.

000

I breezed into Tasty Pastry for doughnuts; it was my treat as I had been so well treated earlier in the morning. Kathy Zulinski was behind the counter and was wide eyed when I approached the display cases.

"Did you really call Joe _sfacime_? (Devil's sperm)

I had to suppress a giggle, "No I said Bella's spawn."

She paused for a moment and asked, "Is there a difference?"

I laughed out loud but said nothing.

"Did he really hit you?"

I nodded yes. "I'm glad it happened in public. I get enough bruises with my job, he'd try to pass off where he hit me as another work accident."

"I remember Katarina, Joe's aunt, had to wear sunglasses even in winter hiding her black eyes. I don't remember Angie having bruises, maybe she stood up to her old man."

I was thinking it was more likely Bella was nearby. I didn't want to discuss Morelli history so I tucked the dozen doughnuts under my arm and bid Kathy good-bye. When I entered the office Connie looked no worse for the pitchers of margaritas, maybe she has her own "cure." However, Lula was flat on her back, one arm thrown over her head, "Oh thank heavens, I thought I was going to die from lack of sustenance." She stumbled to the desk and grabbed a raised chocolate glazed doughnut and a pink iced cake doughnut.

She reversed course and headed back to the couch. "When Ram and I walked out, I saw the black Turbo pull up. You didn't toss your cookies in Ranger's the car did you?"

"No, I was cool. Maybe it was the water." No use mentioning the parking lot faux pas. As I finished my Boston Creme I casually mentioned, "It is time Joe finds a new woman. Let someone else deal with Bella."

"This is different. Usually you two just get mad and separate for a while. Are you quitting Mr. Hottie?" Lula asked.

"This time he hit me. I draw the line at physical abuse. We yell at each other, wave our arms, and throw hand jesters; you know Italian conversation. It's never gotten physical."

"Maybe we could find him someone with their own Voodoo curses," Connie said.

"The only other one I know is Grandma Mazur," I said.

The three of us paused, thinking about Joe with my grandmother. Connie and I started laughing; "That's not a picture I want in my head," Connie snorted. Lula looked green like she might lose her doughnut.

Wiping her face with a napkin Lula asked, "How do we get Joe a new woman?"

"The old fashioned way, post his phone number on a bar bathroom wall, perhaps with a little description: 'Italian stallion: Needs training,' then his phone number." Connie suggested.

Not bad, I thought, but the phone was the kicker. He uses his cell phone for work. He'd be upset receiving random calls from unknown women. "I'm going to have to talk to someone about this?"

"Ranger?" Connie asked.

"No, I think someone with a sinister and devious side"

Lula began fanning herself, "Ranger has a sinister side, _muy grande._ "

"No, no, he's more mature. I need someone who is sinister, devious, and still childish.

000

"Hello Beautiful," Lester smiled and gave me a bone crushing hug.

"I need advice, Lester."

"Dump Ranger and come away with me," he said as he wiggled his eye brows. Darn it, how to people do that eye stuff?

I kissed his cheek, "Oh Lester, you'd hate being #2."

"What makes you think I'd be #2? I've got everything my cousin has and I'm smart enough to know where to keep it."

I gasped and pushed him back, "LESTER!"

He replayed his last line back to himself and actually blushed, "Oh Beautiful, I'm soooo sorry, that's not what I meant. I meant I'd keep you close…no, that's not it…..I'd keep you safe and not disappear for weeks or months." He continued to blush and I think I was blushing too.

Once we both got our blushes under control I continued, "Lester, I'm planning a bit of revenge on Joe that doesn't draw blood."

Lester rocked back and laughed. "Oh darling, when the guys saw the video we were falling all over each other trying to come to your aid and squash Joe. Drawing blood would be so much fun. I know a dozen guys, at least, who would gladly pound him into a pancake in your honor."

I was stunned. "I don't want anyone in jail because of me."

"Stephanie, you may be #1 with Ranger, but you are loved and respected by all at Rangeman. Initially you brought fun to the office with your exploding cars, rolls through the trash, but then we got to know you. You have brought light to our dark lives, you love us and care for us without first judging us."

I had heard this before and found it embarrassing and probably over blown. "There is really a video of him hitting me?" The gossip was bad enough, but to be on Facebook was far worse. I still value what little personal privacy I have….now probably…had.

He nodded, "It might go viral but Hector is working on a way to erase it."

"Nooooooooo! The police will need it as evidence. I don't need thousands of hits of my head snapping back or Bella casting her curses, but it may help my case."

Lester pulled out his cell phone and sent a text, maybe to Hector and then turned back to me, "What type of revenge?"

"Maybe revenge isn't the right word. He's always saying he's the only man I need and I'm the only woman he needs."

Lester looked like he wanted to say something, but held back.

I continued, "He wants a woman who will stay home, tend the house and kids."

"Beautiful, you have far too much light, way more intelligence, to fall for his crap let alone be a Burg housewife."

"It's what I've been raised to believe was my future."

"No, no, that was your grandmother's and mother's future, not yours. You have amazing analytical skills. Your thinking processes are far more complex; analytical, abstract, convergent and divergent. It is a gift that would be lost as a stay at home mother washing windows and changing diapers."

I remained quiet, I didn't understand what he was talking about.

"So you are really finished with Joe this time?" Lester said once again snapping me back to our conversation.

I caught the dig…this time. How many times have Joe and I separated after arguing over my job, olives and peanut butter, going to his mother's house for dinner? Yet the lure of sex, literally on demand sex, kept us coming together again. Joe and I never went on a date, just ate or drank beer, watched a ballgame, and had sex. Maybe that was Burg life because I couldn't think of anything else my folks did, though I wasn't sure about the sex part anymore.

I answered Lester, "We have been apart for several months, but my mother keeps inviting him to dinner in hopes of reconciliation. I figured our relationship would go out with a big explosion. I don't know if the market incident qualifies, but the relationship is over. We both have tempers but his got physical."

"I'd say the exchange in the market was a pretty big explosion. Do you want to be involved with that…..family? Bella as a grand-mother-on-law?" he asked.

Subconsciously I knew that was one reason I couldn't commit. Hosting Mets' day at home with the Morellis including Bella would be hell on earth. He hated my job, I loved my job. I hated his job the way it pulled him away at all hours day and night. He apparently liked his job. There wasn't real love between us; it was a carnal friendship, buddies with benefits. Friendship-love is a whole different ballgame than committed Love with a capital L. My relationship with Ranger was apparently just friendship buddy as well with very infrequent benefits. Was I really in love with either man?

"Lester in addition to getting him a woman committed to him, I want him to think he left me. If he thinks I dumped him, his Italian ego will go gonzo and who knows what he'll do," I added.

Lester ticked off his fingers: "So he wants a stay at home wife, a baby machine, he wants to be in control, and he probably wants to continue…" Lester suddenly stopped.

I was confused, "What else Les?"

Lester shook his head no.

"Lester, please…"

Lester was momentarily flustered and attempting to quickly back track. Recounting his fingers he said, "That's all, I miss counted."

I was pretty sure Lester was going to mention Joe indiscretions, but I didn't want to know. There have been hints about Joe's "other women." I haven't been monogamous in the relationship either. "He needs someone who is totally, 100% into him and the relationship. It's not me."

"How do you figure to do this?"

"Lester, I want him swamped in women. He needs his ego stroked."

"And probably something else," Lester sneered.

"I knew I could count on you too pull this conversation down into the gutter."

He laughed. "How do you propose to swamp Joe with women?"

"Years ago he wrote about taking my virginity on the stadium and men's bathroom walls."

"He what? That dick." Lester was going into rhino mode.

"Let it go Lester, it was years ago. Now I'm thinking about doing something similar in women's bathrooms."

Lester's eyes became shaded, "Graffiti? Do you women still have graffiti in your restrooms?"

I thought about it. He's right. It's not like it was year's ago. Today it is gang signs and they are often painted over quickly. "Yeah, you are right. That won't work."

"Why not use the Burg's communication system? It's so fast to spread rumors about you, why not use it on Joe?"

"You mean like he hit me?" I was confused.

"That's already out there. No, that he's available."

"I'm not going on Facebook or those other sites," I said angrily.

"No, use the Burg grapevine, lose lips and flapping tongues."

"What a brilliant idea, Lester!"

"Second only to you leaving Ranger and running away with me."

I slugged his shoulder.

Lester laughed, "You still hit like a girl. You need to be working out in the gym and get some force behind that hit. Contact your girlfriends to start spreading the word Joe is desperate for a new woman. And I'll have some guys spread the news in town."

I giggled, "Campaign Italian Stallion then?"

000

I needed space between me and Ranger. I remembered he wanted to talk about something after work, but I needed time. Subconsciously I knew nesting with him so soon after Giovanchini's was a bad idea. "Lester, would you go back to my apartment with me? I need to feed Rex and gather clothes and take them to the laundromat."

He looked at me funny, "You trying to be a domestic goddess?"

No, usually my mother does my laundry, but she and I …well, we are on the outs. I'm desperate for clean clothes. " I failed to explain the real reason though I think Lester knew; if Joe was there or showed up, things might escalate into real violence.

Lester accompanied me back to my apartment. The closer we got to my door the more professional he became and the more reluctant I became. Taking my keys he drew his weapon, unlocked the door and walked in a few steps. He turned and hissed, "Stay out here." After several minutes he returned with a stone face, "You've had a visitor."

I pushed passed him and went in no more than a few feet and froze. I knew I didn't leave the couch torn to shreds, the furniture broken or the kitchen cabinets turned inside out. I rushed to Rex and found the aquarium over turned and broken on the floor. "Rex!" I yelled.

Immediately I was down on the floor looking for my hamster. Finally Lester called, "He's under here." Rex has burrowed under the couch cushion on the floor. I ran to the bedroom only marginally noting it too was destroyed and grabbed a shoe box. It wasn't hard, they were scattered around the room empty of their contents. I didn't have time to wonder where the shoes had gone. When I found a box and top that matched I went back and carefully poked holes in the top for ventilation, scooped up some fallen wood shavings carefully searching for glass shards. The shavings went into the box then I picked up Rex and put him into the box.

With my little house mate secure, at least until he ate through the cardboard, I looked around the apartment; everything was destroyed. All the furniture was broken and torn open. My bedroom was also in shambles. The bed was broken, mattress torn open and worst of all, my clothes were in shreds. A peek in the bathroom was nothing more than every liquid container had been turned upside down and smeared over the walls and floor. I actually screamed when I saw my shoes floating in the bathtub.

Lester called somebody. I didn't know who. I went and sat in the hall with Rex in the shoe box. Soon two area cops came up the stairs, Costanza and Big Dog.

"You OK?" Carl Costanza asked.

I shook my head yes. Not a tear in sight. "It wasn't incendiary, obscene graffiti, or a dead body, but everything is destroyed….again." Everything was gone, ruined, broken. Suddenly I jumped up and went back into the living room. "They took the TV."

"What?' Costanza said.

"Whoever did this took the TV. It was Joe's TV."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Suddenly I had no place to live. No Joe, no parents. My choices were my car or a motel, for a night or two at most. My bank account was not flush.

"I'll take you back to Rangeman," Lester said quietly.

"Maybe a motel would be better," I replied.

"You and Ranger have a disagreement?"

"I can't keep running back to him every time my apartment is destroyed."

"You don't, you usually go to Joe's or your folks'."

"Well, that's not going to happen. I'm persona non-grata at either place. I don't even have a blanket to sleep in my car, but do have enough money for a few nights in a motel."

Les put his arm around me, I'd offer you my couch but Ranger would kill me. Maybe Rangeman has a studio apartment you can use, I'll call Tank."

Lester stopped at a pet shop and I purchased Rex a new aquarium, food dish and water tube along with an exercise wheel, bedding and hamster nuggets. As we loaded up my car, Lester glanced at his phone message, "Tank says there is a studio you can use, gratis."

When Tank opened the apartment door he said, "It is Spartan."

It was. A twin bed, a chair and side table with a lamp, a closet with two drawers, a small counter with microwave and under cabinet refrigerator and a bathroom with a shower. This was comparable to a small dorm room, minus a desk. Rex's new aquarium just fit on the counter.

"This is fine. I know there is a no pet rule, but it's only for a short time until I find something else. I appreciate the gratis but it would be better if I pay rent."

Tank and Lester wanted to ask why I wasn't on 7 with Ranger but were too gentlemanly to ask.

"To answer your unasked question, I'm finished being a whore."

Both men's eyes grew wide and both began to sputter.

I held up my hand, "It's over with Joe, it has been for two months; the market incident sealed it. Ranger and I circle go around in circles, we aren't moving towards anything. I'm just a whore. I got paid for my services by Joe with pizza, beer, and abuse. Ranger's payments are cars, an occasional meal, and…..this, a place to hide." I rubbed my forehead, I still had my hangover. As the men left I fixed up Rex's new home, but he lacked a shelter.

It took trips to several dollar-type stores but I found cheap sheets and mattress pad, pillow, towels, cheap body and feminine products, two cups, two spoons, instant coffee and artificial creamer and sugar. There was a rack of packaged bakery items so I picked up a 6 pack of doughnuts, a can of tomato soup and an opener. The doughnuts and soup would be my dinner and the empty soup for Rex's Warhol bungalow.

It was late afternoon when I got back to the apartment, opened the soup can, put the concentrate into a coffee mug, and washed the can. "We both have new digs, buddy," I said. He wiggled his whiskers in agreement and checked out his pop culture can. My head was still pounding. I dug out the Tylenol, quickly dressed the bed and lay down.

I didn't hear Ranger knock on my door. Instead I found him waking me up. It was dark outside.

"Babe, are you alright?"

"Nothing new Ranger, my apartment is trashed." I said swinging my legs over the bed's edge and sitting up letting the lightheadedness pass. "I need someplace more secure, but they cost more than I make in salary most months. I'll return to my apartment as soon as the debris is gone. You can have this back soon."

"You don't have to stay down here," he said as he threw his arm around my shoulder and kissed my temple, but I reacted quickly. "Ow!"

"Babe?"

"My head took a beating yesterday; Bella hit me in the head with an egg, right there; my head bounced on the floor here; again in the parking lot last night, and of course my jaw. I'm sorry I scared you."

His fingers every so lightly traced the bruises, "No, I'm sorry I hurt you." He looked into my eyes and said, "I want Bobby to look at you."

"All I need is sleep. Bobby is going to start charging me doctor's visit fees for the number of times he's examined me," I complained.

A knock on the door indicated Ranger had somehow used his ESP to summon the company medic; more likely a quick text. When I explained to Bobby how my head was knocked around yesterday Bobby began his examination.

"Blurred vision?"

"No, well last night after the margaritas…." He didn't think that was a funny answer.

"Headache?"

I lied, "No."

"Baloney," Bobby shot back. "You have a clear tell when your head hurts, your eyes droop." Remind me not to play poker with him.

"OK, I have a headache, it comes and goes." So I lied again, the pain goes from bad to sorta bad.

"Bomber you may have PCS, post concussion syndrome. If your headache becomes continual, gets more intense or you start experiencing other symptoms, call me immediately. In the meantime, keep your stress level down and rest."

I snorted, "Yeah, right keep my stress level down. When is it ever down?"

Bobby shook his head, "Then just take it easy for a few days."

I didn't promise because I knew I probably wouldn't unless Ranger locked me up in the cells in the basement. Bobby left and I knew Ranger still had his questions unanswered.

"We still haven't had that conversation from this morning and now we have more to discuss."

I smiled, "No this morning we, ah, got busy with other things," I said with a smile. He didn't return my smile.

"I've been thinking about ..." Ranger's cell phone hummed. Ranger answered it, listened for a bit and promptly hung up. Phone Courtesy 101 wasn't in his transcripts.

"Let's see, Babe, I wanted to talk about..."

"My indecent proposal in the parking lot, no doubt."

"No, that's not what I wanted to talk about, but go ahead. I can't wait to hear more about knocking you up. Sounds like fun."

"Ranger I was in a panic. Bella has cursed my reproductive organs to dry up. Only way I can show her curse didn't work is to get pregnant."

"You believe her curses come true?" he said with one eyebrow raised. How does he do that?

"I know I shouldn't, but they do. I get pimples from hell, Vordo curse made me want to rut with everyone but Joe to prove to him I was a slut."

"Just how many people did you rut with?" he asked coolly.

"Just you, but WOW it was memorable."

He smiled and tucked the hair behind my ear and kissed me again, "Yes it was." He continued, "Her curses come true because of the power of suggestion. She has no power over you, you have the power."

"What about the broken teeth curse and Mr. Margola losing his teeth?"

"It wasn't her curse, Babe, it was her throwing eggs making the floor slippery."

"I know I shouldn't worry about my reproductive organs but...well, I'm not getting any younger."

He tipped his head and looked confused, for a microsecond, "Babe, do you want children? I thought that was a stumbling block between you and Joe."

"I don't know Ranger, Rex is about all I seem to be able to handle right now. Marriage and babies, it is all my mother talked about since I was 16; after the incident in the bakery with Joe. Anytime I wanted to do something else, she shot me down, "Your place is here with your own family and my grandchildren. So maybe I shouldn't be afraid of Bella's curse, being sterile might stop my mother's hopeless parade of Burg losers for Friday dinner." I continued, "But there's also the _Morte_ curse. I don't know if Bella was pointing to Grandma Mazur, me or the four of us in general."

"The death curse? Babe, your grandmother and Mrs. Giovanni they are both older ladies. They will die, everyone dies."

"I hadn't planned on my passing being so soon, but now I'm not sure. I live on the edge, maybe the foundation is starting to crumble and I'm destined for the Great Fall."

He held me close, we both were quiet. "Babe I wanted to talk to you about was what happened in the market. Has Joe ever hit you?" Ranger was trying to be cool but I could see him stifling his anger.

"No, he's yelled a lot and waved his arms, but so I have. He may have thrown things out of frustration, but never actually hit me with either with his hand or thrown object. Only overt action was when he handcuffed me to the shower curtain rod years ago."

Ranger's face had a tiny smile, "I treasure the memory of unlocking you from the shower rod." His kiss on my cheek was soft and sweet. "Did you really call him evil spawn?"

"Oh, not you too," I sighed. "I called him Bella's spawn. Evil Spawn is a movie about alien microbes. I don't consider either Bella or Joe microbes...but it might explain a few things."

He smiled at his mistake, "I prefer evil spawn. Do you think Joe trashed your apartment today?"

"No, I can't see him doing that."

"Come upstairs, Babe. Let me show you something."

I grabbed my key and followed him to the elevator. When we entered his apartment, he picked up a TV remote and clicked on the TV. The screen showed my apartment's front door. I forgot the camera was there, installed some time ago. I was grateful only the door was visible thinking of the times Ranger and I got hot elsewhere in the apartment. Did he remember the camera? Probably.

A date and clock readout was on the upper portion of the screen. The door opened and two men wearing baseball caps pulled low entered. Anyway 47 minutes later the same individuals left the apartment with Joe's TV and something else. My cookie jar!

"Play it again, please Ranger." This time I concentrated on the men. One was shorter, maybe 5'9", skinny wearing a light jacket, trousers, and loafers. The second was Joe's height; the build was similar, six feet, broad chest, narrow hips, but this man had a bit of a stomach and a flat ass. Joe filled his jeans nicely. This guy's pants bagged a bit in back. His clothes were another jacket, Jeans and slip on boots, like Wellingtons.

"The shorter one doesn't ring a bell and the other at first looked like Joe, but the hair is too short, there's a bit of a gut and the guy's ass is too flat."

Ranger almost smiled when I mentioned the man's derriere. "Hector is going over frame by frame trying to enhance the resolution. Maybe he'll find something. In the meantime a copy has gone to Costanza and Big Dog."

I nodded as I thought of the video trying to find something familiar about the two men.

"The camera shows the cookie jar, was your gun it in?"

I had a wry smile, "No, it's in my bag."

"Good girl. Is it loaded?"

"No, I think there are cracker crumbs in the holes for the bullets."

"Babe."

"Do you think the person knew about the gun in the cookie jar and went looking for it? That would narrow down the suspect list, wouldn't it?"

"Possible."

I got up and walked to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of water. "Have we covered what you wanted to talk to me?"

"No."

My eyes said proceed.

"Why are you down stairs Babe?"

Tears filled my eyes but I willed them not to escape, "Joe hit me, people will assume I will go back to him, like a typical Morelli woman. What will the Burg say once they find out I immediately went to your bed? Stephanie Plum the whore who runs from man to man." Actually they probably already say that.

He looked at me like I spoke some strange language. "Babe, will you go back to Joe?"

"No way, never and my mother now understands. In fact I will not go back to my mother either."

"Explain."

"She insinuated I deserved to be hit by Joe."

Ranger's eyes got hard. I wish I could read his mind the way he reads mine. I suspect mentally my mother was being drawn and quartered or whatever Ranger does to his victims. He shut his eyes and forced himself to relax.

"Are you hungry? Dinner is in the warmer."

"I have soup downstairs." I didn't mention the doughnuts.

"Have you eaten today?"

Other than the coke, fries and pastries, no I hadn't eaten. I shook my head no.

"Please have dinner with me. After I'd prefer you sleep here. You had a restless night last night. You need your rest." He did not mention the sleep walking.

My stomach answered for me with a big growl. "Yes, I will eat dinner with you, thank you." Yeah, that's our relationship, maybes, part-times, and somedays.

"I know Babe," he said sadly.

I was mortified. "Out loud?"

000

I assured Ranger I was as safe downstairs as in his apartment and returned to my Spartan digs. I had no extra clothes. I washed my undies and carefully laid my clothes flat to lessen the wrinkling. Tomorrow I'll be helping clean out my apartment but I'll also have to get clothes. I needed money for both. I crawled into my small bed naked with the cheap sheets and gave thanks I had this.

The dreams from last night returned, full Technicolor dreams from which I tried to escape. I was trapped between sleep and being awake, weeping and crying out. When I finally totally awoke I realized my cell phone was dead and my charger was somewhere in the apartment mess, I didn't know the time. Plus now I was afraid to go back to sleep. So I gathered the blanket around me and sat in the bed, planning my future, if I had one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **Steph's problems continue. Joe makes an appearance.**

I watched the sun rise, a strange occurrence since I am not an early riser. The evening dark grey morphed into lighter grey. The gloom appropriately fit my mood. Today was apartment clean up. Bobby said rest, but as long as I wasn't chasing down skips, light work probably counted as rest. Several Rangeman offered to help so I left early to purchase doughnuts for my helpers.

Avoiding places where I'm well know, I decided to walk into Dunkin Doughnuts as the drive thru wait was long. There were no Boston Cremes so I settled for maple bars for me and a selection for the men. I hoped they'd bring their own coffee. I wasn't sure where my coffee pot was in the apartment mess.

When I returned to my car, I froze. Somebody had had spray painted a bullseye on my car's driver side door. My phone was still dead, I couldn't call for help or rescue. My breathing heightened and black dots fill my vision field. NO! I was not going to cave. I set the box on the hood of someone's car reached in and grabbed a doughnut, shoved it into my mouth, closed the box and continued to the car. If it blew up as I started it, at least I went with a doughnut in my mouth. Ranger said they'd kill me.

When I pulled into my apartment building parking lot, several of my helpers were already waiting. They saw the bullseye on the door, their faces were stone. "Why didn't you wait for us?" Cal asked.

I held up the doughnut box but said nothing.

There was little to salvage from my apartment, save my phone charger. I had very little to begin with as several fires have forced me to start over. The most heart wrenching were the damaged clothes. The knife spared nothing; clean and those waiting in the laundry basket. I shivered thinking what the demented minds did with the underwear first. Shoes were soaked. Everything went either into the dumpster or Rangeman pick-ups for a dump run.

I wasn't giving up my apartment. It was my very unsecure security blanket and only indication I was making my own way through life no matter how poorly.

I stood at my window and noticed my POS car was missing! Hurrying downstairs I saw several Rangeman men were standing by the dumpster. Walking up to them I asked, "Did you put my car in there?"

Vince laughed, "We thought about it, but ran out of room."

Several minutes later a black RAV4 drove into the lot. Erik got out and handed me the keys, "Your new car. Ranger said your car was leaking too much oil." I suspected the bullseye on the door was another reason.

As I stood admiring the new car, my recharged phone rang. The ring tone was my mother's. Groan. Guess she got a new phone or grandma didn't completely destroy the old one.

"Stephanie, this is your mother."

"Yes Mom." Her phone didn't have caller ID and didn't understand how people knew she was calling before she told them. I long ago learned to stop confusing her.

"Where are you living?"

"In my apartment, of course."

"I understand it was destroyed."

It's been 24 hours and already my mother knows what's happening. Only people who knew were Costanza, Big Dog, and Lester. And people say women are big on spreading rumors!

"My apartment is fine, only stuff was damaged."

"I'm sure we have some extra...".

I cut her off. "I need nothing from you." It sounded cold and was meant to.

"But you..."

"Mom, stop!" I couldn't believe I said that. I must still be reeling from her saying I deserved to be hit by Joe.

"I'm just asking where you are living, young lady. No reason to be snippy."

"Yes, I am snippy, but I'm not apologizing. I'm putting an end to your meddling and trying to control my life. For certain I am not living with Joe or you and Daddy. Now I need to finish cleaning MY apartment." And I hung up. I hung up on my mother!

Cal looked over and cocked an eyebrow, "You PMSing your mother?"

I was surprised he knew the term. I smacked his shoulder, "I don't need the Burg following everything I do. Between the Rangeman gossip, police gab-a bouts, Burg blabbermouths, and my mother, my security is iffy. Whoever did this may return and cut me up next time."

Cal looked frightened and chagrinned. It was a curious combination.

000

Connie breezed into the office with a big smile on her face. "Kathy Zulinski just asked me if you were really throwing Joe back into the pond."

"Wow, that's fast!" I said as I picked out the blueberries from a muffin I grabbed at Starbucks along with a Grande Caramel Macchiato. I was avoiding my usual haunts while the apartment destroyers were around.

"You know the way Kathy spreads rumors I'm sure all the eligible women under 40 are hunting him down."

"Connie, after what happened in the market a few days ago, the Burg women might be hesitant. Do you have any friends between Newark and Philly?

"I have over 30 female first cousins and they probably have a dozen friends each, I'll make a couple of calls."

"I don't want him smothered; I just want him looking elsewhere. My dream come true would be to have him married off soon."

"What about you?"

"I honestly don't know. I'm beginning to believe men aren't worth the trouble." The option of leaving Trenton was still on the table.

My phone rang, it was Mary Lou. "My phone has been ringing constantly. People want to know about you and Joe. I need fresh material. Did he break your jaw? Did you call him evil sperm?"

I shook my head; each time a rumor is spread it gets larger and more convoluted. My mind flashed to the movie "The Blob" oozing its way around the Burg. "Evil Spawn" and "The Blob," who knew my life would be reduced to horror movies.

"Mar, he hit me in the jaw, it's not broken, I'm currently eating a muffin so no permanent damage. I called Bella evil and the Morelli men her spawn, there's a difference."

"There is?"

I decided to skip the biology lesson; sperm, spores, and spawn. "It's time he finds another woman."

"You've decided that's not you? Have you and Ranger gotten closer?"

I didn't know where I stood with Ranger. Could I live with his friendship only? Do I dare tell Mary Lou about my mother? No, she is as much a rumormonger as anyone. "The other Morelli men kept their abuse behind closed doors. It's over. He needs someone to keep his bed and heart warm and who won't infuriate him." I then told her about Italian Stallion and the motto, "Italian Stallion, good ride but needs training."

Mary Lou laughed, "I can work with that." Then she paused, "Are you OK?"

"I don't know. I feel like I've been gut punched, not hit in the face."

000

After leaving the office, I headed to the mall in my new car. Clothes were a high priority; I was still wearing the white t-shirt and yoga pants from yesterday. One black skirt and jacket, one nice blouse, one pair sexy shoes, jeans, tops, outdoor jacket. A stop in the pink store for more undies and another store for work shoes maxed out my credit card. As I stuffed my purchases into my new car, I looked around memorizing what cars were near me or anyone watching. On the way back from Quaker Bridge Mall I took several detours watching for tails. I spotted the Rangeman tail, must be someone new who hadn't yet perfected tailing without being seen. I also noticed a silver coupe that looked familiar. Actually with most cars being white, silver, black and red, a silver coupe shouldn't stand out.

I began to freak out and called Rangeman. "This is Steph, ask my Rangeman tail if they have spotted the silver coupe following me."

"Roger, Bomber, they have and the plates come back as a rental."

It would take time for Rangeman to determine who rented the car. "Let's try a diversion. I'm going to Marconi's hardware. I'll be there in 17 minutes. Have someone waiting for me in the alley."

"Will do."

I parked in front of Marconi's and casually window shopped first trying to spot the silver coupe. Darn, it was near the corner. Suddenly the window in front of me broke and a rifle cracked. I ran into the shop. "Is the back door alarmed? I asked as I continued toward the back.

"What the hell is going on Steph?" Julie Marconi screeched. I had pulled this evasion trick before so she was used to the Plum escape action but not the window exploding. I burst through the door and literally into the front seat of Cal's personal pickup and scrunched down low. I stayed down out of sight and Cal quickly drove away.

000

"What do you mean, Ranger, the silver coup driver didn't fire the rifle shot," I wanted to scream but kept my voice under control.

"Mario, your tail was watching. The shot came from behind him," Ranger answered. His face was stone, he was as upset as I. "As soon as the shot broke the hardware store's window the silver coupe pulled away. Mario lost it."

"It was a rifle, how did they miss?"

"Maybe it was just to scare you."

"They accomplished that," I said as I flapped my arms and stomped. "Who rented the car?"

"It was stolen this morning from a motel near downtown."

"Did Mario see the driver?"

"No. The driver was short, below the head rest top. Babe, think, have there been any skips that swore vengeance on you? Are you going after anyone dangerous?

"DUI's, small time drugs, street girls, flashers, the forgetful, burglaries, I haven't had anyone cuss me in weeks. It's been boring."

"Babe, I'd rather not have you on the streets as long as people are taking shots."

"You and me, Ranger. Maybe you could wrap me head to toe in Kevlar." I halfway joked.

He paused as if considering it, "There's a thought. I'd bet you'd be cute."

You'll have someone with you at work. Please don't ditch him. This isn't a game, it is your life."

 **Late afternoon**

I borrowed an SUV from the Rangeman fleet. My RAV4 was already known by the silver coupe driver. I headed back down Hamilton the bail bonds office. I unconsciously looked around for the mysterious silver coupe, but then half the cars on the street were silver. I was probably safe for a day or so until people knew what car I was now driving.

I quickly left the SUV and dashed into the bonds office. "This morning you said you have new skips. Do you have the papers?" I asked Connie.

"Just one but it's worth your time. Peter Matucci, held up a grocery store for money and groceries."

"Gun?"

"Yeah."

These cases are border line for me. Knowing I'm going up against a weapon yielding criminal makes me want a Rangeman beside me for sure, maybe even a whole SWAT team. But his bond was $5,000, only $500 for me but I did just visit the mall. All money was badly needed.

I sat down on the fake leather couch usually occupied by Lula, but it was late in the day. She was probably getting her nails done or hair recolored some hideous shade. Matucci was a Burg boy, related to half the Italian part of the Burg. He could be hiding with any of them. I looked up at Connie, "Do you know this guy?"

"Peter married right out of high school but he and his wife couldn't get pregnant. She left him after 7 years for someone else, Sandini, I think. They had a child almost instantly. Peter fell into deep depression, moved into a one room apartment, quit his job. His family has shunned him."

Great, I was finding nothing to latch onto. He had been picked up for other robberies, usually food related; convenience store, Tasty Pastry, fast food restaurants. Robbing grocery stores was something new.

"He's hungry."

Connie looked up from her typing, "What?"

"The poor guy is hungry. He's turned to grocery stores so he doesn't have to hit fast food places as frequently. It says here he would go into a fast food store, demand money and food."

"That's sad. If his family would feed him..."

Yeah, well, we know about families. Maybe I could get my mother to feed him instead of me. No, she'd probably try to get us hooked up. I returned to reading when I heard Connie utter, "Uh Oh."

Looking up I saw Joe's head passing the window to the office. My eyes raced to the back door.

"You'll never make it," Connie uttered.

Joe came in and his eyes bore into mine. This could get ugly. I noticed Connie reached down and opened her drawer where she kept her Glock.

"Cupcake, we need to talk, outside." His hands were on his hips, an aggressive stance.

"No."

"No?"

"I'm not going outside with you to put on another spectacle for the Burg."

"We need to talk, in private."

I really wished I could raise an eyebrow, "The sidewalk on Hamilton Ave is private? Or would you rather go back to the market?" Petty, but I didn't care.

"We will go around the corner, you know where you and Manoso make out," he hissed. It was a prelude to a Morelli explosion.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Leave now, Joe," I said in a controlled voice. Inside I was quaking with anger.

"You will come with me, outside NOW," he said through clenched teeth. In two long strides he was at the sofa, grabbing my arm lifting me to me feet.

"Let me go!" I screamed, tried to kick his shins and wiggle out of his grasp. My mind flashed on Lester saying I needed to work out and develop some muscle. Joe grabbed my other arm and shook me as if to shake sense into me. "You are coming with me," he said forcefully. I let my legs relax and I sunk to the floor. He was going to have to drag me outside. That would be a Burg worthy spectacle.

"Let her go Joe," Connie said in a voice I've rarely heard. It was authoritative and scary. We both turned and saw the big Glock pointed at Joe.

"I could arrest you for assault," Joe warned.

Connie's phone rang and she glanced down then picked up the phone and laid it down. "You are on parole and suspension Joe for assault and battery. I'm seeing you assaulting her. Thanks to Facebook, everyone has seen the evidence and now with our in-office security cameras," Connie said pointing the dark orb on the wall, "They see you grabbing her and attempting to drag her out the door. She told you no. No means no." Yes, Connie is a mobster's niece. She can be frightening.

Joe thought a minute, let go, stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. He was trying to control himself. "OK, you are right. I don't know what's going on with me and you, Cupcake…"

"Stop it! I'm no longer your cupcake. It's over Joe." I got back onto my feet but backed away from him.

That seemed to rock him back. I've never understood the true meaning of cupcake nickname but my greatest fear it related our encounter behind the pastry counter at Tasty Pastry.

"You ran back to Manoso," he yelled.

No rhino, no rhino…I lowered my voice, "I'm renting a studio apartment from Rangeman after someone broke into mine and destroyed everything. Call Tank, ask him. I am not living with Ranger."

"We need to talk," he said again, this time calmly.

"You do plenty of talking every Friday night at my parents' dinner table disrespecting me and my job. Its bad enough I get all that garbage from my mother, but not you too. It's over. We are over forever. If you still want a free meal on Friday, I'm sure my mother will welcome you and the two of you can continue bad-mouthing me."

"We need to talk about what happened at your apartment."

"My apartment? I assumed it was you who destroyed it; male, six feet tall, dark hair, thin hips." I had already determined it wasn't Joe but I just was being a bitch.

His eye opened wide, "I'd never do that to you." His arms swept up and I noticed Connie raised her gun again.

I looked at him for a while. He was telling the truth and I actually felt bad about saying what I said. "No, you haven't destroyed my apartment for several years; not since you were looking for the distributor cap. It's just whoever it was, took your television." I noticed a big black SUV roll up in front of the office and two Rangeman men jump out.

"I know, I read the police report. We still need to talk."

"Not for a while, Joe, not for a very long while." I turned my back hoping he wasn't stupid to come after me again while Connie had her weapon out and two giant Rangeman were coming through the front door.

He got the message, turned and started to walk out but ran into the two Rangeman men coming in. Joe turned and glared at Connie. She shrugged and pointed to the camera and held up the telephone.

"They provide our security Joe, especially from suspended police officers."

Fortunately Joe didn't say a work, just pushed by the men in black and stormed out the door. One of the men followed him to watch he left, the other asked Connie, "You need anything?"

Connie slipped her Glock back into the drawer, "No, I think we are fine down." Ramon looked at me, "Bomber?"

I hadn't yet turned around, I waved my hand, "Fine, fine." Ramon left. I collapsed on the sofa putting my head between my hands.

"Thinking about Australia?"

"Is any place safe? Even my dreams are getting dangerous."

"What does that mean?" Connie asked cautiously.

"There are several, the most colorful is Hansel and Gretel meets Wizard of Oz. The wicked witch, Bella wants to chop me up and roast me for dinner, but the scarecrow interferes."

"No flying monkeys?"

I shuddered, "One, Joe." Once again I was in movie mode. Maybe I'm trapped in some weird time anomaly and I'm living my life through movies? An alternate theory may be I'm still in a coma from Giovanchini's.

"Steph, you might want to book that trip to Australia soon. By the way, Rangeman will have a copy of what happened. You should give it to TPD."

"Will you get in trouble for the gun?"

"It's registered and I have a concealed carry permit. With Joe on suspension, I should not have a problem."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **Short chapter.**

 **000**

Joe was still upset when he swept into his mother's house. Mumbling to himself about thugs, cupcakes and Connie when he came to a sudden stop. Great uncle Umberto was sitting at the table drinking espresso. " _Grande Zio_ 'Berto?"

 _"_ _Guiseppe!_ How good to see you. How's my _nipote poliziotto_ -my policeman nephew?" The old man stood and threw his arms around his nephew.

"When did you get in town?" Joe excitedly asked.

Slowly returning to the chair, Umberto said, "A few days ago; I was in New York on business and had to come see family. Then I'm off to Dallas for a few days."

Joe knew his uncle exported marble religious items all over the world. His mother's house was filled with the smaller items; crucifixes, angels, marble bowls, plates and a big giant marble slab she used for rolling pastries. The majority of his exports were larger items: baptismal fonts, columns, and slabs for floors, walls or kitchen counter tops. Though Sicilian by birth, he lived in Tuscany.

Angie Morelli, Joe's mother, came into the kitchen from the basement, "Joseph, isn't this a surprise to find Zio 'Berto here! Can you stay for dinner?"

Joe went to the oven and opened it a crack, "Osso Bucco?"

Mrs. Morelli said, "Yes, only the best for such a distinguished guest. I have four shanks, one for you if you wish."

"Why didn't you tell me Zio 'Berto was coming?"

"I didn't know myself, he just showed up, but he's always welcome." She said as she went over and kissed her relative's head. "We are going to have a family dinner here, Sunday, whole family, you will come?"

"I'll be here." Apparently Mrs. Morelli didn't know or didn't believe Joe was on suspension for the market incident. Angie Morelli continued out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Guiseppe, how's the woman you've been with these past few years? When are you going to get her from your bed to the altar?" Umberto asked as he winked.

Joe looked away, "It's in a holding pattern."

"Joseph, Joseph, you wed them and then bed them, not the other way around. A little sip before is fine, but you don't drink the whole bottle first."

"Yeah, yeah," Joe said. He had heard this before. Joe watched his uncle, actually great uncle sip his espresso. The man was ancient. He had lost height. Though never very tall he was probably Stephanie's height now. His age spotted hands trembled a bit. His eyes seemed runny as if he had allergies or other eye irrigation. Cataracts? Macular degeneration? He did retain the Morelli hair, thick and in his case, white. With this big Italian nose, for a moment Joe thought he resembled a bald eagle.

"What are you now, nearing forty?" Umberto asked as he set his tiny cup down on the saucer.

"In a few years."

"You should be thinking about grandchildren, not starting a family. Though your great grandfather, Guissepe didn't start his family until he was 60. Then he punched out 4 boys within 5 years plus 2 girls later. So maybe you are more like him than in name."

Joe reframed from rolling his eyes. Sixty years old with babies, even to him that didn't sound fun. His great grandfather Guissepe Casciaferro had a large estate in Sicily with servants and armed guards. At age 60 Joe hoped to be retired, but the longer he put off marriage and children, the more likely he'll be working a second job after police to pay for college. His stomach turned a bit.

"Zio, how about Grappa to go with the Tiramisu?" Obviously Joe's mother had run to the Italian Bakery as soon as Umberto arrived to stock up on items.

"Si, Si," Umberto said. "I was waiting for a man to come into the house so I could have a drink."

Joe didn't tell Umberto his sister in law, Bella, was pretty good at throwing back the Grappa herself.

"Zio, have you seen Nona Bella?"

"Si, si, she went to the butcher for salami and prosciutto."

Joe silently cursed. Bella was under "house arrests" and told not the leave the house.

000

Bella did not drive a car. Her eye sight was fine as were her reflexes. She believed she deserved to be driven around; otherwise, she would take the bus and walk, allowing her to watch what was going on around the Burg. Today she needed sliced meat for her brother in law and called Carolina Piccoli to drive her to Stefano the butcher.

"I need prosciutto and salami, take me to Stefano's," Bella ordered like a drill sargeant. "Margola, he have the best prosciutto, but he on vacation."

Carolina was not about to remind Bella the reason Mr. Margola was away was due to Bella herself. Carolina accepted Bella as she was, bossy and mean just as her mother had been. In some far out family way she was related to the Angie, so through marriage to Bella as well. Family obligations still ran strong in the Burg.

"I go alone. You need anything? I get it." Bella had been in the country most of her life and could talk well, but preferred to carry on with the traditional immigrant speech. It reminded people where she was from.

The tiny bell rang on the store door and Stefan's looked up, " _Buongiorno, signora Morelli_." Stephan's greeting was light, but inside his stomach rolled. He did not want to upset this lady, the _Strega,_ the witch. Bella marched in with just a hint of a limp indicating she had arthritis in a hip or knee joint.

 _"_ _Voglio prosciutto e salame affettati molto sottili_." (I want prosciutto and salami sliced very thin.) Stefan gave a slice of each to Bella to examine for thinness. She nodded and then ate both pieces. After he wrapped them and handed them to her, she said boldly," _Sto aspettando_ (I am waiting.)

 _"_ _Si, si_ Bella," he answered and wiped his hands on a fresh towel. " _Mi aspettavo qualcosa di entrare entro il fine settimana."_ (I expect something to come in by the weekend.)

She turned and walked out of the store. He went to the back and took a nip of Grappa to calm his nerves. Bella Morelli scared him. She was evil.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Emotional overload**

 **SPOV**

I hadn't yet settled down from my encounter with Joe when I pulled into the underground parking at Rangeman. Before leaving the car I called Bobby.

"Stephanie, are you alright?" he said with concern in his voice.

Did he already know what happened in the bonds office? Of course he did, the whole scene was broadcast to the 5th floor monitors. "Are you available for a consultation?"

"Yes, I'll be waiting."

I began walking up the stairs to give myself a few minutes to think about what I could tell him without him committing me to an alyssum. Just before I opening the third floor stairway door, I became light headed. I stepped aside least someone come crashing through the door. Good thing. The blond giant, Hal, came through, "Oh sorry Steph." He paused, "You alright? You are pale." I must be ghost white, lighter than my Hungarian ancestry coloring.

"I'm on my way to see Bobby."

He took my arm, "Let's make sure you make it there."

Did I really look that bad? Since I was still lightheaded, I wasn't arguing with him.

The clinic door was open and when Bobby saw me with Hal holding my arm, he jumped up, "Come in Stephanie." He nodded to Hal and then closed the clinic door behind me.

Bobby held my arm as I sat in the patient's chair, "Bobby, are nightmares part of a concussion?"

"They can be," he said noncommittally.

"Since the market episode, I've had the awful dreams waking up screaming, crying or in a sweat. I don't dare go back to sleep for fear they will reoccur."

"Your head got knocked around Tuesday, Steph. When I examined you the other day you didn't' show signs of there being a problem, but they can be slow in developing. I see your head still hurts."

Before I asked him how he knew I remembered him telling me about the droopy eye lids. "Yeah and I'm a little light headed too. I don't know if it is a concussion, stress, fear or need to make big changes in my life. Maybe it is all of the above."

He reached over and took both of my hand, "Steph, you know everything here is confidential." He then gave me a quick assessment; eyes, ears, blood pressure, and reflexes. "Your reflexes are slow, eyes appear clear and no blood in your ears, but your blood pressure is high. It might be your head or Joe's appearance."

I cringed, "Does everybody know already?"

"Steph, the guys on the monitors saw Joe enter the office and Connie pulling her weapon. They had a team rolling instantly. But back to your head, next step is a hospital exam, CTScan, to rule out inner cranial bleeding."

My hands and arms were flying about as I leapt unsteadily to my feet, "Not in Trenton, please! People will see me! They will call my mother and soon everybody will know. I'll be on everyone lips, they hate me because I divorced the attorney and now I'm the town whore. Please Bobby, please, not St. Francis, not Helen Fund, please…please."

He took my hands and sat me back down, "OK, let me make arrangements elsewhere. Then I can drive you or Ranger can."

"No, yes, OK. You decide, I can't…..I can't think or breathe." The black spots appeared in my vision field and clanging in my ears began. I lowered my head between my knees, but the pain was intense, my head and chest hurt. "Oh God it hurts, I'm dying." I exclaimed.

Bobby was on his phone, "Clinic STAT, it's Steph."

I don't know where Ranger was when he received the call, but it seemed as if he was teleported instantly to the clinic door. Ranger came in and knelt down in front of me least I fall out of the chair. "Babe?" This was the real concerned "Babe."

"Ranger, I'm going to die."

"What?! Bobby, what's going on?" Ranger barked turning his head back to look at Bobby who was filling a syringe.

"Steph, you are having a panic attack. You are under stress, first you need to breathe deeply….." Bobby cooed.

I jumped up but fell towards Bobby's desk. Both men grabbed me, "I've got go, everyone will know! Australia, far away! The men will come again, Bella is trying to chop me up bake me with the eggs and sweetbreads, the scarecrow is trying to save me, the flying monkey is screeching, aliens have invaded my apartment and conducted strange experiments on Rex and my shoes, Grandma is in danger and needs to move, my car has a bomb, Ranger is trying to bury me, but I don't want to be dead…."

I never felt the needle. Bobby knocked me out.

"What the fuck, Bobby?" Ranger was stunned.

"Let's hope it's not as bad as it looks," was all Bobby could say.

I woke up in a hospital in Freehold, NJ, outside of Trenton. The room was in low light, there was no sun outside the window. Obviously it was night, but what time, what day? I turned my head, Bobby was sitting beside me. His darker skin and Rangeman uniform made him almost invisible, save the white doctor's coat and stethoscope around his neck.

"How do you feel, Stephanie?" Bobby asked.

"Stupid."

Bobby chuckled, "I was referring to physical symptoms. How are your head, eye sight, nausea, pain level, and those other important things?"

"Important? Then I'm hungry, pissed I'm in a hospital, and have only a small headache, not pounding anymore."

Bobby smiled, "I can work with. You've been asleep for 26 hours, your body was exhausted. You do have a concussion from hitting your head on the ground. The contusion on the side isn't going to be a problem. You need down time for your head and body. I'd rather not give you any sedatives; they can encourage more strange dreams and sleep walking."

"I don't sleep walk," I hissed.

Bobby didn't argue. "I'm taking you back to Haywood. You can stay in your small apartment or up on 7, your choice. I want to see you again tomorrow afternoon in the clinic. In the meantime I suggest we stop for dinner someplace on our way back home. I know I'm hungry and I you probably are as well."

I was on my feet in record time. Like Pavlov's dog, ring the dinner bell and I'm drooling. On the way home from dinner, Bobby suggested I sleep on 7 where Ranger could monitor me. I put up a fuss, of course, but in the end agreed. Plus I had clothes in his closet I desperately needed.

I was curled up on Ranger's couch with a blanket and pillow when he came into his apartment about 10 pm. An old western movie barely held my interest, but it was safer than any horror movie. No use adding more scripts to my night mares.

"Babe, how do you feel?" he asked as he deposited his keys in the silver tray by the door and came into the living room. Gently he kissed my forehead.

I was already in his t-shirt with sweatpants with Rangeman in bold lettering up one leg. I think he has set aside t-shirts just for my use. Heaven forbid I put bumps in all his t-shirts. "Concerned," I answered.

He slipped off his belt and put the gun the gun safe and returned to the living room. "Concerned about what?"

"I really went nuts downstairs. Am I losing it?"

"You are the strongest, most resilient person I know. Emotionally you are distraught and confused and having a concussion doesn't help. You need time and rest." He got up and headed for the bedroom, signaling I should follow.

"No, I'll sleep here."

"Babe?"

Tears started forming, "Let me retain some dignity, please. I told Joe I was renting an apartment, not back in your bed."

He looked hurt, confused, and ultimately resigned, "Do you have enough covers? Do you need an extra pillow?"

"I'm fine. I'm not quite ready for sleep."

"Sweet dreams," he said as he bent over and kissed me again.

Yeah sweet dreams…..if only…

000

Ranger heard the phone and automatically reached over and mumbled, "Yo."

"Sir, 5th floor, Stephanie is in the elevator, screaming. The car is still on 7. Do you want …." Ranger didn't hear the rest. He grabbed his silk boxers and dashed into the entry vestibule and pressed the call button. Stephanie was weeping and pounding on the elevator walls. As the door opened he rushed in and grabbed her, "Babe, wake up, wake up. Stephanie wake up."

Shortly thereafter Bobbie appeared from the staircase, dressed only in pajama pants carrying his medic back pack. Reaching into his medical bag he pulled out an ammonia inhalant. Opening the packet he passed it under her nose and immediately got a reaction. "Babe, wake up," Ranger implored.

Instead of totally waking up, she realized she was in the confined elevator space with Ranger in her face and started screaming again, "Why are you doing this?"

Picking Stephanie up in his arms he moved her from the elevator car back into the apartment and onto the couch and laid a blanket over her. Bobby sat on the coffee table talking to Stephanie and examining her.

"What can I do Bobby?" Ranger felt helpless.

"Tea, make tea. If you have an herbal with soothing herbs, great."

Ranger set out to boil the water as Bobby quietly talked to Stephanie who was becoming more aware answering his questions.

"You were crying in the elevator. Do you remember going there?"

She shook her head no slowly.

"Ranger is making tea. We could all use a cup. Were you dreaming?"

She paused a long time then shrugged as if to say she didn't know.

"Does your head hurt?"

She shook her head yes.

"No doubt, your heart is racing and your blood pressure is high again. Let's take a few minutes to calm down. Steph, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth…there, hold a sec' and begin again…."

Bobby moved and sat next to her and pulled the blanket over himself and put his arm over her shoulders. His crossed is other arm over his body taking her wrist into his hand and he began monitoring her pulse. It was coming down. "Bomber, you are safe now."

She turned her head and stared at Bobby, speaking slowly but clearly, "I'm not safe."

After they finished their tea, Stephanie began nodding off.

Bobby held up a syringe already filled with a sedative. "If she has another screaming episode, use this. Try talking her down first, the fewer drugs she has, the better."

"What's going on?"

"The concussion isn't bad, so my thoughts are heading towards a mental health issue. My training is limited, but I'd say PTSD and depression. Night mares or sleep terrors could be due to stress. Sleep walking is often part of the parasomnia. It's a vicious circle, night mares and you don't want to sleep, lack of sleep begets nightmares."

"PTSD? She hasn't been in combat," Ranger shot back.

"The hell she hasn't. How many explosions has she been in or near? How many times as her apartment been broken into, torched, rockets through the walls or windows, vandalized? She's had two dead bodies in there, one cut in half and another exploded in her hall. She's been kidnapped several times, including locked in a casket and cabinet. She's been thrown off the bridge, killed a man attacking her in her own apartment, watched you and Tank shot, even been shot herself. Add in the constant gossip and outright malice by her family, Joe, friends and community, and harassment in the newspaper. If it wasn't for you giving her emotional support, she would have destructed long ago. She's is amazingly resilient but even elastic has its limits."

Bobby continued, "What happened at Giovinchini's was the continuation of a two month conflict. While you were away, Joe hustled Steph to the county clerk to sign a marriage license saying they would get married the next day in front of the JP and honeymoon in Atlantic City. Stephanie balked; Joe got mad and went "Italian," Stephanie picked up the license, tore it to shreds and threw it at him. Of course there was an audience and the news spread like wildfire through the community. Bella cursed her at Italian People's Market saying her grandson's seed wasn't worthy of a whore and there would never be a wedding. Stephanie called Bella a witch, _Strega_ , and told her she was correct; there would never be a wedding. Mrs. Plum began going out of her way to bring Joe and Stephanie back together by having him at Friday night dinner. According to Edna, Steph and Joe ignore each other or snipe at one another. Joe always leaves before the meal is finished begging some police business when actually he's ready to go ballistic and needs to get out of the house. He often ends up at the bars. Once in the bars he gets morose; one minute he's saying his life is worth nothing without her and the next minute saying he'll do everything in his power to take her away from the thug forever. She's just about at her limit. She needs to change her life and after these few days I highly suggest she get psychological help otherwise she'll go over the edge. I'll start working on a list of potential doctors she can work with."

After Bobby left, Ranger sat holding Stephanie. He was seriously worried about her. What did she say in the elevator? And what was the tirade down in the clinic the day before? Since he couldn't relax, eventually she woke up. It was still well before dawn. They didn't speak but held each other.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter9

 **Dreams and Discussions**

 **SPOV**

I awoke in Ranger's arms. It was the most secure I have felt in days but he was tense. Was he mad at me?

"Babe, it was only a dream," he said.

I shuttered, "They have all been so real or so bizarre."

"Tell me about them."

He would think me insane if I detailed them. I didn't mean to be so graphic with Connie; surely she thinks I've lost it. Maybe I have. "No, I can't…I just can't."

"Babe, we can't confront it unless you talk about them. I've had nightmares myself after missions. I still get them from time to time. Talking helps, trust me."

I don't know why I was surprised Ranger had nightmares. Of course he did. Years of combat must have left emotional scars that are still not healed. He seemed to be in control all the time and I assumed it carried over into his sleep.

"When you went off in the clinic, you said strange things. I assume part of those were your nightmares. Some were bizarre but others made sense. What about your Grandmother being in danger?"

Maybe I could answer that, "She and my mother had it out. She's actually disgusted with my mother's drinking and wants to leave and be among her friends at the senior apartments. She needs help to move. I haven't been there."

"That's not a problem. I can send a couple of guys over when she is ready. I'm sure she'll enjoy the beefcake."

"She'd willing go if you or other Rangeman would stop by the senior center from time to time. Grandma Mazur is old, but she still adores male attention."

Eventually in a very small voice I said, "There are several dreams, they keep repeating. In one I'm in a cemetery next to an open casket when suddenly I begin slipping. I reach back to you but you push me into the casket. As I'm lowered into the grave, I see you with Tank and Bobby. Off to the side I hear Eddie Gazarra and Grandma Mazur telling me I didn't get out of town fast enough. Bella begins shoveling dirt on me along with Joe and my mother. Each shovel full reduces my vision of you. I call to you to get me out, but you don't move. As the last shovel of dirt starts to fall over me, you turn and walk away."

"What about the flying monkeys?"

"No, no, I can't …" No way was I discussing the Bella dream! I jumped up and started for the door. I had to leave. If I ran far enough and fast enough perhaps the dreams would not follow.

He grabbed me and turned me about to his chest. I fought him, wiggled, tried to kick him, and pounded his chest, "Let me go, I have to leave, I have to go away!"

He said nothing, just held me tight. I was not escaping his hold; eventually I quit fighting him. Tears did not flow, numbness invaded my core. We ended up back on the couch; he was cooing to me and rubbing my back. I rubbed his back, but he was tense.

"If you leave, where would you go?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't know, just far from Trenton and near the ocean. The waves calm me."

"We could get away for a while…" he said.

"No, just me. I've made a mess of everything. My relationships, my family, my job…I need to be reborn and start over."

"Without me?"

I hesitated. This was going to be painful, "We don't have a future together. You've made that clear often enough."

He knew I was right, his body sagged as if to say….."Thank heavens she now understands."

We both fell back to sleep until the sky began to lighten. We were still on the couch, his hold remained firm. "Babe, I want you to stay here at Rangeman, not return to your apartment."

"I need to leave. I don't care anymore."

"You can't run, not now. We don't know who is after you let alone protect you if they follow you. Here at Rangeman you can remain safe."

"Ranger, are you going to lock me up? I'd be no better than Rex, living in a glass enclosure, seven story glass enclosure. I can't do this anymore. I'll never be what others think I should be; the submissive Burg daughter, wife, and mother. I am the Burg joke, the Bombastic Bounty Hunter, the screw up, the whore that keeps two men's' bed warm."

"A whore? Is that how you see yourself?"

"Bella was right. I bounce from man to man; Dickie, Joe, you and get kicked in the gut each time. Dickie played around, Joe tried to dominate me, and you use me for momentary amusement.

"Babe?"

"I'm sorry, that wasn't fair to you. You've always said you weren't into relationships. I really don't know what we are; lovers, friends who screw each other from time to time, or something else?"

"Babe, you are moving through very emotional times right now. You've let others control you. The Burg, your mother, Joe has tried to keep you down. You are starting to grow and stand up for yourself. It takes time to find your balance."

"I can't see I'm making progress. My apartment is ransacked again, someone is using me as target practice again, and my POS car is sprayed with a bull's eye. At least I haven't rolled in garbage in a few days."

"Until we determine who is after you, I want to keep you safe so you can continue the transformation."

"And when we find who is after me, would you throw open the door to the gilded cage and let me fly away?"

"If that is what you'd want, I'd let you go and die of a broken heart."

"Pfft! I doubt that. You've sent me back to Joe saying he was best for me yet you continued to toy with me."

"You didn't exactly resist my advances and yet kept brushing me back saying you were on again with Joe. You wanted it both ways."

"Because neither of you would step up to the plate. Joe talked of marriage but never acted like he meant it, other than for on-demand sex. You said condom not a ring. Ultimately though, the fault lies with me. I tried to be an obedient Burg girl. People were controlling me; go back to Joe, my mother said I made a mess of my first marriage and I needed to marry Joe. Joe said stay away from you. He tried to force me to marry him so I would have to quit my job to bear his children. Now I've kicked Joe to the curb, told my mother I'm not kowtowing to her anymore, but I feel worse, not better."

He held me, putting his cheek on top of my head then quietly said, "I tried to keep a buffer between us saying I don't do relationships because it's too dangerous to have emotional ties with the contract jobs. I couldn't give you the relationship I thought you wanted; commitment and stability. My life doesn't work that way. That is why I kept sending you back to Joe. I thought he would be able to give you want you wanted. I was wrong. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"So you are kicking me out to find someone else?"

"No, Babe. It's time we start over. I'm not going to be like the Burg and assume I know what you want or what is best for you. You are developing your own voice now…..so I'm asking, Stephanie Michelle Plum, what do you want?"

How many times have I asked myself the same question, what do I want? I picked up a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down what I need and want. I was surprised how easily to the words came. It was everything Joe could not, or would not fulfil. I should have done this years ago.

Ranger watched me fold the paper. When I was finished I asked him, "What about your missions? They are a major road block."

"My contract is coming due in a few months. I'm not sure I'll renew."

"Am I the reason for you uncertainty."

"Yes."

"Are you afraid I'll demand more than you can give?"

He hesitated, "I've hardened my heart in order to stay alive. So, yes, I'm afraid I won't be able to give you what you need or want."

"What if I can't give you what you need?"

"You already do Babe," he whispered as he kissed me lightly.

"What do I give you?"

"You are my anchor. Without you I am hard, uncaring, isolated in myself. I am dark inside. You believe in me, you love me no matter what bad things I have done to others or to you. You give me light and a path to life. I pray you continue accept me for what I am and not try to change me to fit your model like Joe was doing to you. That's just a portion of what you give me and in return, I love you with all my heart, the amazing Stephanie Plum." Hesitating he asked, "May I read your list, Babe?"

I placed it into his hand. He unfolded and read, paused and then looked confused. It wasn't the reaction I expected.

Accept and Respect me

Believe in me

Honesty

Love

Honor

Sense of humor

"Babe, love is fourth."

"Joe says he loves me but he doesn't accept, respect or believe in me, and I know he isn't honest about…..his _peccadillos_. There can be no love without these four. I wanted to add commitment. Maybe I'm hung up on the word. These," she said tapping the paper, are all part of commitment."

She then sagged, "Ranger, I'm tired."

"You need sleep."

"No, emotional tired. I'm tired of being hurt and hurting others: Dickie Orr, my mother, Joe, the assholes with TPD, the Burg, and you. I bounce from one disaster to another, I can't bounce anymore, I just want it all to stop."

"Babe, life is filled with emotional pain. It is how we react to it, learn from it and especially how we grow from it determines who we become. You've let others hold you down, including me. I've suffered for the hurt I've caused you. I want to make it up to you and move on together, just us. I don't know what form we'll be, but I want you by my side."

"Carlos, you already fulfill these, she said tapping the paper. "I just want you, anyway I can have you. I don't want to force myself on you. I what to be invited to share your life, your whole life, and not be sent off because you think you know what I really want or need. I need somebody who wants and respects me as I am and will stand with me today, tomorrow for as many tomorrows as we have. I'm not looking for the white picket fence, the giant diamond on my hand, the baby carriage. Does that make sense?"

"Babe, we both could use some counseling to smooth out the bumps. We have issues we need to work out. In the meantime, I want you safe here at Rangeman. Your apartment is not safe. From the lobby door, your front door, the fire escape, windows, it is a security nightmare. How many intruders have you had that intended to harm you? You can have an apartment downstairs or you can stay here. I'll sleep on the couch if you want, but your safety is paramount."

He paused awhile but we still held onto each other like two lost souls in a storming sea. "Eventually I want to hire you as a Rangeman employee, get you away from Vinnie. He is breaking the law having you work for him. You are untrained, unlicensed and uncertified. If you left here and tried to get the same job elsewhere, nobody would hire you. Your perseverance has allowed you to bring in the cheap skips, but you are not supporting yourself.

I reared back, "Yes I am. Anyway, I like my independence."

He sighed. "Apparently I've done you a disservice, providing you with cars, a place to stay for safety, my men to aid you, medical insurance without cost. Do you actually enjoy your exceedingly dangerous life filled with the mentally unstable and low lifes, exploding apartment and cars, no savings. I understand living on the edge, but you don't realize just how narrow that edge is for you."

"You sound like Joe."

"We both know you can do better. You've been trying to show up your detractors by being a BEA but you often fail giving them more ammunition to use against you. How much better if you were working a job you were well suited and trained. Your accomplishments would shine and they'd lose their power over you. People will be saying good job instead of calling you a train wreck. You fit in already, filling a need we have and you are very, very good at it. Eventually I see bigger and better things for you here and throughout all the Rangeman offices."

Ranger, I don't know…"

"Babe, you don't run away from your problems, you stand and fight. You've been trying but you don't have the training and mental fitness. Working here, working hard and training with us, you will become the Stephanie Plum Wonder Woman you've dreamed about."

"But I like being independence."

"Babe, do I impinge on the Lester's independence? He has job, he is very responsible and does it well. Yet, he leads his own life when he's not working. Bobby has his life, Tank his, all the men have their own lives. You would have your independence. You would not be my or Rangeman's captive."

I needed time to think about what Ranger was offering. "For a while I'd like to stay downstairs while I work through issues. I'm not ready to share your bed. Yes, I'd like to talk to a counselor, just as soon as I can afford one."

"Babe, it's part of the health plan. There's no need to delay. Bobby is working up a list of individuals you can interview."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The "Hit" on Stephanie

Ranger was returning to his office after expending a dozen ammunition clips at paper men in the Rangeman gun range. The simple action of firing his weapon calmed his mind. He didn't realize how fragile Stephanie had become and its effect on him. While he had convinced her to move into Rangeman, fourth floor, he wasn't sure what to do next. He could plan and execute complex military missions but dealing with an employee's emotions or mental health issues was beyond him. OK Steph was more than an employee, but he had to compartmentalize before he too went over the edge. He and Stephanie had made appointments with psychologists who regularly dealt with PTSD issues for next week. Bobby looked relieved.

As he walked by the main desk Manny stopped him, "Sir, there's a message from Hieronomo Costello for you to return his call." Hieronomo Costello was better known as Harry the Hammer, Vincent Plum's father-in-law. Harry maintained the image of a well-off businessman to the public, but those in the know he was also an enforcer for the mob.

Ranger went into his office and shut the door. "Harry." was all Ranger said. He wasn't much on phone niceties.

"Ranger, this is a courtesy call. Rumors are there's a hit on your woman."

"My woman?"

"Miss Plum. People with any brains knew sooner or later she'd throw that _cullo de cavallo_ (horse's ass) Joseph over board. He's been with several _puttanas_ in Philly behind her back. At least he goes out of town unlike his father, uncles, and brother Anthony. Anyway, I'm calling to tell you the hit isn't from anybody I know, I've asked around. Grizzoli says nothing from him. His niece might be behind this, but it seems a stretch."

"You saying this is a hired gun? If so they are not proficient. Harry, someone has already tried to get her with a rifle."

"Yeah, I heard. Maybe they are toying with her, first. Anyway, I can't nail down local or out of town. Also heard she's not the only target, but one of several. Don't know if you and your company are on the list."

"Could it be Vinnie and the company?"

"Unknown. I'll do what I can for Lucille's idiot husband. Until we all know more, be careful."

Ranger thanked Harry for the update and hung up. This wasn't good news. Stephanie had obediently remained at Rangeman, resting and lightly working on searches and background checks for several days but he knew she was getting antsy to get back outside. He dialed Tank, "My office."

Within moments Tank knocked on the door and entered. He noted Ranger troubled look.

"What's up Boss?"

"Harry the Hammer just called. Street word is there's a hit planned for Stephanie and others."

"Grizzoli?" The big man asked.

"Harry has talked to Grizzoli, says he's not involved. Harry doesn't know if the "others" are Vinnie and Lucille so he's going to protect them. Grizzoli will probably protect Connie. We are under contract to protect them as well as the office."

"No idea of the group?" Tank asked.

"Harry didn't know if it is the bond company, us, or someone else."

"We need to beat the bushes now. I'll set up extra security for bonds office."

Ranger nodded.

"Anybody special you want on back up?" Tank asked as he moved to the door.

Ranger paused a minute, "Experienced and appropriate; we'll be making the circuit."

Bink has the Maybackhparked in Ranger's extra parking slot. The big car was kept under cover when not in use. A quick wipe down had eliminated any dust. Normally Ranger would use the Turbo if going alone, but he and Tank together barely fit in the small car. In this case the large sedan was necessary to impress. Close behind in a Suburban were Hal, Bobby, and Hector.

First stop was the Latin portion of Stark Street. Ranger and Tank got out and looked up and down the street. They saw several individuals back into door ways with cell phones in hand. Word was quickly spreading; Ranger was on the street to talk.

Hal stayed by the SUV door, Hector and Bobby moved to the sidewalk next to the sedan. The door to the cantina was guarded by tattooed men with more visible ink than Hector. Ranger uttered, "Sergio," in a voice so quiet only the two of them could near. Carlos Manoso had saved Sergio's life years before in a gang fight in Newark when both were still in their early teens. Ranger followed by Tank moved into the cantina. Tank remained beside the door and Ranger took several steps inside. A heavy set man looked up from his game of dominos and nodded to a side booth. Ranger angled in and waited. The man eventually got up joined Ranger. Tank remained at the door, arms crossed over his chest.

A bottle of exclusive Cuban rum and two shot glasses appeared. After pouring two drinks, both men threw back the potent liquor.

"¿ _Por qué_?" the larger man asked.

" _Hay asesinatos planeados. Los viejos dicen que no están involucrados."_ (There are murders planned. The old men say they are not involved.) Ranger said quietly.

The big guy only shrugged, " _Sucede."_ (It happens)

"This one is personal," Ranger said flatly.

"Nothing from us. The curly haired bond agent hasn't busted balls taking in my boys when they've been... forgetful. They play tough but they know they'll answer to me….and you if things go wrong."

Ranger nodded but said nothing.

The man continued, "Comstock Street Slayers are reforming, maybe they have an itch to scratch."

"Tell them if they are behind this I'm bringing the flea powder."

The big guy nodded but said no more. Enough had been said with few words. Ranger got up and walked out; Tank surveyed the room and followed.

Next on the agenda were the Africans. This time of day they'd be on the basketball court. Their main contact man was putting his cell phone in his back pocket when the two car parade rolled up. Tank and Bobby took the lead. Ranger got out and leaned against the Maybach with his arms crossed. Hal remained in the SUV, out of sight. Hector moved to the driver's position. The highest ranking player in the game stepped forward walking past Tank and Bobby who continued to watch the game.

"Bro, long time no see."

Ranger nodded and together they created a complicated hand shake. "I've been tending business elsewhere," Ranger responded.

"You wanna shoot hoops?" LeRoy asked.

"Another time, LeRoy, thank you."

Ranger had respect for LeRoy Johnson. He ran a tight ship, tended to business and tried to keep the younger ones in line.

LeRoy didn't waste time, "Not us. Who told you?"

"The old men."

LeRoy stared right into Ranger's eyes as if trying to communicate telepathically, "Maybe they got dementia now and are blind." LeRoy tipped his head and returned to the games. As he walked away he said, "Come back and shoot hoops."

Tank and Bobby returned and the 2 car parade slipped down a side street to where the Eastern Europeans had upgraded their holdings. The Tea Room was a little bit of Russia. Everything was different, the smell from the bar, the samovar for the tea, a giant espresso maker, and off to the side a hot plate with a _jazve_ or _briki_ to make boiled coffee popular from Greece, Turkey, Armenia and beyond.

As before, Ranger was expected. The three groups may be arch enemies, but the heads were smart enough to keep communication lines open especially when Ranger was on the prowl. Nobody wanted Ranger in their business. He was fair to all, but he also did his business well.

Ranger did not enter the tea room with the darker skinned Tank, Bobby or Hector. He entered with the blond blue eyed Hal. His host knew he didn't drink coffee or tea but offered anyway. Ranger nodded no.

"Vodka?

Ranger smiled a tiny smile. His host's face lit up. Immediately two glasses were put down and filled.

After the appropriate insult to each other, they downed the vodka in one gulp.

Pyotr put his glass down. " _Eto bylo dolgo. Ty skuchayesh' po etomu?"_

(It's been a long time. Do you miss it?")

Ranger shook his head and smirked, " _Da osobenno zimoy_ (Yeah especially winter.")

Pyotr chuckled, " _Vy byli rasschitany na boleye teplyy klimat ... kak Kuba."_

(You were designed for warmer climates…..like Cuba.)

 _"_ _Chert poberi."_ (Damn right.) Ranger agreed. Years ago Ranger had a mission in northern Russia that lasted five months, November through March.

"Well my friend, not to waste your time the answer is no. We have nothing out on your lovely lady or the 'group' whatever it is. The _fashistskiy natsist_ (Fascist Nazis) don't have a ruble in the game either. I'd look at the _ital'yantsy_ (Italians)."

 _"_ _Oni govoryat, net."_ (They say no) Ranger responded.

" _Immigratsiya ne mozhet ustranit' krys_ " (Immigration can't keep out rats.)

Each man had another drink and toasted each other to long life and prosperity. " _Blagodaryu vas Pyotr_ ," (thank you Peter) Ranger said warmly.

When Hal and Ranger returned to their vehicles, Ranger was more concerned than ever. He tossed the keys to Tank, he wouldn't drive after three drinks.

On the way back to Rangeman he and Tank discussed the possibilities. "LeRoy was being cryptic. He was referring to the Italians and said, 'Maybe they got dementia now and are blind.' They Pyotr said immigration doesn't keep out rats."

"Maybe someone else is moving in trying to oust the old men by bringing in their own team?" Tank wondered.

"If so, why include Stephanie? Has she had any major dealing with the families recently?"

000

 **Stephanie POV**

"Babe, come into my office, there's something we needed to discuss."

I had been planted in my office chair for several hours doing searches and background checks, I needed a break. After closing Ranger's office door, I remained standing.

"Sit, please."

"May I stand? My tushie is tired."

He nodded but did not smile. "Babe, there's a contract on you."

I changed my mind about sitting; in fact I fell into the chair. I sat on my hands as they began to shake. Soon the black spots started and those darn clanging bells…

"Breathe Babe," Ranger cooed as he pushed my head between my knees. I have done this often enough to know to push back against his hand. I wanted to jump up and run but I knew my legs wouldn't hold me.

When the world returned to almost normal I sat up but kept my face in my hands, "The rifle shot?"

He nodded, but did not add the ransacking of the apartment might have also been a hit that failed because I wasn't home. I had considered than several days ago and kept it buried in my brain.

Ranger continued, "I've talked to the Italians, the Latinos, the Russians, the Africans, they know nothing."

"Ranger there are more groups, the white supremacists, neo-fascists, Asians…"

"Babe, I'm looking into them as well but I have to use a go-between for them. My face is not welcome everywhere. Have you been dealing with any major hitters?"

"Not by myself! I've learned to leave the big boys to Rangeman." Ranger would have to discuss with Tank recent FTAs involving Rangeman while he was gone.

"Ranger, of all my skips a few said they'd get me, but most spoke those words while chemically impaired. Once they sobered up, they forgot." There were some in particular I worried about, the Slayers for example, but I knew Ranger kept a finger on their pulse.

He stepped back to his desk and sat on the edge, "There's another part. The tip said it was you and a group. You are the only one mentioned by name."

"Lucky me," I mumbled.

"You should be in hiding; might be a good time to visit Rangeman Miami or Atlanta."

Once again I flashed on Australia with an alias. "Ranger if I leave, then I condemn the group, whoever they are. I can't do that, especially if it is you, this building or selected Rangeman employees."

"How are you going to protect a group?"

I didn't answer or shrug.

"I'm not sure it's in your nature to be careful. You think about others before yourself. Plus you are not trained in awareness and avoidance. Also, right now you are in an emotional valley, you are not thinking clearly."

He was right, of course, I needed to stay hidden. But I was also getting antsy; I needed to leave the building soon.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **A/N:** To all who have written comments, encouraging me and guessing at coming episode, don't think because I haven't responded personally **I'm not lovin'** your input. Time is pressed for me and I'm trying to get this story up expediently….wedged between a half dozen other projects. I miss communicating with all of you…..I'll do better….later.

000

Thanks to the "hit" I was not only confined, the entire Rangeman staff was assigned to keep me in the building. I didn't know how long I could stay before I needed to escape, but I'd try to be compliant. After all, that's one reason I became a BEA, aside for the "great" money, I like being outside. I may complain about the Jersey air and weather, but it sure beats wearing pantyhose and working in an office any day. Besides, if I thought too much about the "hit" out on me, I'd have another emotional breakdown. As it is, I'm barely holding on.

This morning I ran background searches for Rangeman. After lunch I worked on my only FTA case, Peter Matucci. Since I'm not in the bonds office other FTAs must be building up. Peter comes from a big family and I'm calling everyone to ask about him. Most hang up on me immediately.

"Don't think he will be invited for dinner," I remark to nobody in particular.

I knew the grocery store where he had waved a gun and walked out with groceries. It was a chain grocery store but no guards were posted. There's not enough profit in grocery stores for extra security. Shoplifting cuts deeply into the bottom line often forcing stores out of neighborhoods where thievery is common, leaving the independents and their inflated costs.

One report had a clerk say Peter had been stealing for a while. Up until this last time he took the food and ran. Last time he wanted money and food thus producing the gun. Apparently he moves fast outside the store as nobody could get a license number on his old, rust blue Toyota.

I continued my discussion with the computer, "I didn't think Peter has eaten through his groceries yet unless he has serious munchies. He'll be back."

As I was finishing my ruminations about Peter Matucci, Hal brought a folder to me from Connie at the bond office.

"She thought you needed extra money. This one is a bigger bond."

I opened the folder and closed it immediately. Fredrick Mannheim, $250,000 bond, $25,000 for me if I brought him in. That would get me to Australia. Problem was he was way beyond my capacity. Not only was he huge, 6'10", he was 385 steroid built pounds. He made Tank look petite. His crime was knocking women around, putting them in the hospital. Probably with all the steroids in him, he is impotent and frustrated. This was a third offense. I was going to give it to Rangeman. Putting red tape on the top, I walked the folder to Tank's office. "Connie thought I could bring him in. Only way I see is DOA."

Tank looked at the folder and was instantly furious. "She's nuts to think you could do this one alone. You are smart Bomber to pass this on."

After I left, Tank got up and went into Ranger's office. "Something weird, boss. Connie gave Bomber this case. Felt she could handle it."

Ranger looked over the case, "Is she nuts? This guy will take a squad to bring down, way beyond Steph's ability. She could end up dead." Ranger continued to fume, silently; "Is this a set up? Is Connie part of the conspiracy?" He shook his head, "Quit seeing ghosts, concentrate of the facts."

000

Ranger and Tank were behind closed doors. I left my desk and made my way downstairs. I needed to get outside and start looking for Peter Matucci. I never got near my RAV. It was gone! Surely it wasn't stolen out of the ultra-secure Rangeman underground parking. I was storming around when Ram came up to me, "Going somewhere Bomber?"

"Ah, I forgot something in the car," I blubbered. "Where is it?"

"There is nothing left in the car. Since you are confined to quarters, you have no need of your car. It's been secured."

"You took my car?! Then I'll use the Turbo."

Ram shook his head, "You won't get out of the garage. Your fob does not work on the gate."

"Front door?"

"Alarms will sound and the archers on the parapet will fire."

"Not funny." I was pissed. As I stormed out of the elevator on 5, Lester held out his hands, "Whoa, Beautiful. It was my idea."

"What the archers on the parapet?"

Lester looked confused for a moment and then smiled. "Beautiful, someone wants you dead. Whenever you leave you will be driven. That is not negotiable."

"Is this Ranger's order?"

"The part about being driven anywhere you need to go, yes. I decided to secure the RAV. You can jab the boss or me, but you'll have all of us to slay as well. Frankly you will lose."

"And if I don't go along with it?"

Hal came by and said, "We'll put you into a box and attach a cargo 'chute then drop you in some secluded island until the shooter is captured."

Lester said, "Take it from one who has been in the box, it isn't fun."

I elbowed Lester as I went by and stopped at my desk. I didn't know if they were kidding or serious. Probably it was closer to being serious, but Ranger remembers my experience with small, dark boxes or cabinets and would tell them to push me out without the box….or coffin.

After working more on Peter Matucci I glanced at my watch and saw it was 5:45 pm. Like a homing pigeon I grabbed my bag and headed for the elevator. It was Friday, wasn't it? I had lost track. Dinner is always served at the Plum house promptly at 6:00. Suddenly I stopped. I didn't have a car, I couldn't get out the front door, and of course I was not going to my mother's for dinner. In fact she had not called. I checked my cell phone, there were no messages. Momentarily I was confused.

"Babe, you going out?" Ranger asked as he stepped behind me.

I shook my head slowly, "I'm confused. I've lost track of the days. What is today?"

"It's Tuesday Babe."

"What! No, that's not right it should be Friday."

Of course he understood immediately, I was going stir crazy. "Do you want to eat upstairs or go out?"

I wanted to go out, I already was suffering claustrophobia being confined. "Shorty's?"

"I have a few more calls to make, go to the kitchen and find a snack and then we'll head out. It might be an hour," he said as he kissed my curls.

I tried the Break Room. Ella kept it stocked with sandwiches and fruit for the day and night crews. I grabbed an apple and began thinking about my week as I munched on the apple. My mind tried to find the lost days, the rifleman who shot out the hardware store window, the two guys who ransacked my apartment as well as how to capture Peter Matucci, the hungry and depressed grocery bandit.

"Babe?"

I came out of my trance realizing I had a mostly eaten apple in my hand but it had begun to brown due to exposure to the air.

"I'm proud of you as he looked at the apple."

"Ranger I eat apples."

"Yes, usually nestled between two crusts with extra sugar and cinnamon."

"Apple is an apple." It felt good to make a small joke.

000

As usual the pizza a Shorty's was exceptional. The crust was so much more flavorful. The bar was busy but the restaurant wasn't packed.

"How to they make the crust so good," I asked Ranger.

"They add extra flavorings to the dough; garlic, herbs and a bit of cheese, not much. Also the salt is freshly harvested sea salt, not salt from underground mines."

"Ah, it was just a rhetorical question, I wasn't expecting the recipe. How do you know what they put in their dough?"

"We had to work undercover here some time back when certain elements were causing trouble. We put Mario in the kitchen." Ranger smiled as he remembered.

I was smiling to myself, if Mario got a little scuzzy, he'd be the iconic grumpy pizza chef. As my mental picture rolled on, my eyes focused on a man at the bar. "It's Frederick Mannheim."

Ranger carefully took out his cell phone and keeping it low in his lap texted a Rangeman alert. Not only was a full contingent needed for take down, we also needed the paper work on Tank's desk. Fortunately Mannheim had just received a new beer so wasn't about to guzzle and run. Ranger and I tried to make ourselves less obvious by keeping our eyes down and not making exceptionally wild movements, like Ranger's controlled nature would allow for such a display.

After 7 minutes the text came in four Rangemen were in position out front, two in the back. Big blonde Hal came into the bar finding a seat next to Mannheim right side. Show time.

"Babe, go introduce yourself, but stand back. Hal is sitting on Mannheim's right side to stop a weapon. I'm hoping the FTA will choose to run out the door instead of fighting."

It sounded simple. I put my stun gun into a jacket pocket but figured the men had the handcuffs or plastic ties. "Frederick Mannheim, I'm from Vincent Plum Bail Bond, you are in violation of your bond and I'm here to take you in."

Of course he laughed. "Ain't gonna happen cunt," and he spat on me.

Hal spun him around, "That wasn't nice" and hit Mannheim in the throat, probably the only part of his body not covered with extra thick muscle. Mannheim gagged, Hal put him in an arm lock and quick marched him outside to the waiting Rangemen. Once outside, Mannheim momentarily broke free.

By the time I got outside five big Rangeman were trying to regain control the giant. I was primed; the "c" word usually sets me off. Jumping between Hal and Tank, I put the stunner to his neck and pressed the trigger. Three good guys also received a slight jolt, but the target was momentarily subdued. Most people lose consciousness, Mannheim was only briefly distracted, but long enough for double cuffs on his wrists and ankle cuffs. I knew Rangeman Woody was a former rodeo tie-down champion and he proved his quick hands once again.

"Good going Bomber," Ram said as he rubbed his arm.

"I'm sorry guys I didn't think it was strong enough to get you too."

"It was just a tingle," Erik said but I knew different.

Mannheim was carried into the waiting SUV and attached to the floor restraints. He was snorting like a bull and trying to free himself. I heard a sizzle and realized someone used their own stunner on Mannheim. Suddenly the bull quieted down.

Ranger was by my side, "Nice take down."

"I got the guys too."

"Couldn't be helped. You want to go accompany your capture?"

"Not mine! I didn't wrestle him down, plus the case was a Rangeman case."

"Your name is on the paper work."

That wasn't right! There was no time to argue, it would be easier to carry the paper for this and later distribute the money to the actual captors.

000

Mannheim was slow recovering from the stun so I was able to walk him into TPD alone. OK, Hal and Tank were right behind me incase Mannheim got frisky. The surrender area went quiet. Mannheim was more than a foot taller than me and outweighed me by several hundred pounds. After I got his wrists and ankles secured I leaned over and whispered, "Any trouble and the stun gun won't be against your neck, it will be down low."

Robyn Russel's counter at TPD check-in looked like Tasty Pastry as did the rest of the lobby.

"Who's birthday?" I asked.

Robin looked embarrassed. "The word is out you and Joe are definitely over. Women are descending upon the Trenton police department with pastries for Joe along with their telephone number."

I put my fist up to my lips and shut my eyes. I was going to win an Academy award for this performance. Inside I was pleased; outside I had to look upset. Finally I lowered my hand as I realized 3 or 4 cops were watching me, "I hope he and his grandmother choke on them."

It took great self-control not to grab a cookie or cannoli. It really was ironic wasn't it? I threw Joe over and now he's getting all the goodies.

I stormed out the back door and into Ranger's arms. "Problem Babe?"

"Nope, looks like Operation Italian Stallion is off and running."

He wrapped me in his arms before tucking me into the Turbo for the quiet ride through the late night city back to Haywood. He had what was left of our pizza in a carry out container. When we got to Rangeman he gave me the box, "Imagine it will be your breakfast tomorrow." The elevator stopped on my floor and I got out, "Thank you Ranger." I went into my Spartan bedroom, alone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The next morning I had a message to meet Ranger in the garage at 0900. Ranger was waiting for me outside the door. Taking my arm he led me to the Turbo.

"Road trip," was all he said.

I was primed, anything to get out of Haywood.

"Aren't you going to ask where we are going?" Ranger asked as he pulled out of the underground parking.

I shrugged, "It doesn't matter as long as it isn't in Trenton."

We went south across the river and through Philadelphia before we turned east. "Atlantic City?" I asked.

"Close. I've rented a house for a few days."

"On the beach?" I was getting interested. "Wait, I didn't pack anything!"

"Ella packed a bag for you along with all your girl stuff. Just sit back and relax."

I suspected this trip was a much for him as for me. We were at a crossroads in our relationship. He once said he would not poach but would wait. What then? Was I "his" for….life? His government commitments were ending; he was moving on to a new chapter in his life and apparently wanted me as a part of it. Did I want to join him or was I ready? I knew joining him and his Rangeman life meant I was going to have to change myself. Work outs, better eating and more responsible actions. The rebellious little girl in me who wanted life her own way - though that "way" was never clearly defined - was going to have to be excised, one way or the other.

The house was at Sea Isle, south of Atlantic City's gaudy casino craziness. The large 3 story grey house backed up to the ocean on a bluff. It was a walk to the water, but not far. For the next several days we walked along the beach, talked a lot and slept in the same bed, but we kept our hands off each other. We both knew our emotional situations wouldn't handle the burdens sex would add. Snuggled together we both slept well, better than the last several weeks. I've always slept peacefully with the ocean sounds nearby, but add snuggling next to Ranger was an added comfort. By the end of our mini vacation I felt I could breathe again and thoughts of running away were again fading.

Back in Trenton, the next few days I was still working inside Rangeman doing searches, even offering to help Tank with paper work. Once a day I went to the roof, sometimes alone, sometimes with someone. Apparently I needed sunshine or what passed for sun in Jersey. This was the tallest building in the area so I felt…mostly safe from prying eyes.

000

"Ranger, I need to get Peter Matucci before he hurts someone. May I drive to the office?" I hated to ask but something inside of me was still afraid of Joe or bullets.

"Hal will be your shadow. Tell him where you are going, don't try to ditch him. We have no new leads on who is after you."

Yeah, the rebellious Stephanie resented being told I had to check in with my guard, but the frightened and slowly growing responsible Stephanie knew it was the right action. I parked in front of the office and quickly went inside.

"Hey white girl, it's been a while." Lula greeted me.

"I'm keeping a low profile after the market." I didn't say and after the shooting, or apartment destruction. Maybe not all the Burg knew I had a target on my back.

"Did you bring any doughnuts?" she asked hopefully.

"Geez, I forgot." Actually I was trying to limit my exposure in the Burg from whoever had the rifle.

"You gotta tail," she said as she looked out the front window.

"I hope it's Rangeman."

"Yeah, looks like Hal, the blonde. Is he here to keep Joe away? Connie said."

I shuddered and decided to ignore the question. "Anything more for me?"

"Actually Lula brought in Mooner and Mrs. Rayburn, the terrible shoplifter. She had the money, she just enjoyed the challenge. A challenge she had yet to win."

"Congratulations, what did it take for those two?"

Lula responded, "Four hours of Miami Vice with Mooner. Mrs. Rayburn wanted to stop for lunch so we went thru Cluck in a Bucket for a full meal deal. Both asked where you were. I told them on vacation."

Still feeling a bit flush from Mannheim apprehension, I offered Lula lunch at Pino's and offered to bring something back for Connie. I texted Hal and told him next destination was Pino's and he was invited as well, if he drove. He accepted.

We were lucky to snag a booth. Hal ordered a calzone with sausage, green peppers and onions inside, Lula got a cheese pizza and I went for my usual, meatball sub. It had been a long time since I had one of their supreme sandwiches.

We were nearly done when Hal mumbled, "Joe's coming this way."

Oh great, I thought. Stuck in Rumor Central. Why did I select Pino's?

Joe approached apprehensively, "Cupcake."

The name was now stomach wrenching. "No more Cupcake crap Joe," I sneered. "My name is Stephanie."

He shook his head like he forgot. "I'd like to introduce my great uncle Umberto, Bella's brother-in-law."

Was this some type of joke? Bella's brother in law? Was he trying to rub my nose in the poop the two of them laid in the market? The uncle seemed to be ancient. He probably once was a taller man, but gravity and age had bent him. His hands trembled ever so slightly and one eye watered like he had stuck himself with the mascara wand, but more likely an eye problem.

 _"_ _Buongurno Stefania, Guissepe_ has told me a great deal about you. I'm happy to meet his beautiful girl friend."

"I'm sorry I didn't catch your last name," I asked.

"Umberto Russo originally from Sicily, now Tuscany."

"Oh, I thought Joe's family was from Naples."

"That is the Morelli side. My late wife, Stella, and I were Sicilian."

Oh God, there were two Bellas? "Yes, of course. What brings you to Trenton?"

"I was in New York for business and came to see family. I had business in Dallas and San Francisco and now am back for another visit before I return to Italy."

"What do you do Mr. Russo that brings you to the US?" I really didn't give a darn but was being polite.

"I am in the marble business. I supply marble for commercial, restaurant, furniture, home, and religious purposes."

"I hope you have a good visit with your family, Mr. Russo," I said dismissively.

I could tell Joe wasn't going to say anything, but I made a point of turning and asking Hal something, ignoring Joe and his relative; great uncle through marriage.

"She is upset with you Guissepe," Umberto whispered at they left Pino's.

"Yeah, about a month ago she and I had another fight. She said she'd rather not see me anymore."

"Is this something new?"

"No we've broken up before, but this time it was bad."

"How?"

"Stephanie and I can't seem to get the idea of marriage down. We both are hesitant to commit. Bella pushed hard initially which probably frightened Steph. Now she is trying to drive Stephanie away so I can find someone else. This last incident Bella was responsible for injuring someone and Steph was there. Stephanie said things against Bella and the family and I lost my cool. I hit Steph and now I'm on suspension from my job."

"What did Bella do?" Umberto sighed. This wasn't new, Bella was a problem years ago in Sicily.

"She believes she has _malocchio_ power and first cursed Stephanie: _Possono vostri organi ascuigare._ Then she cast the _Muerto_ curse."

The old man sucked in. " _Questo non è buono"._ (This is not good.)

 _"_ _Bella nonna ha fatto il suo atto per anni,."_ Joe lamented. (Grandma Bella has been doing her act for years.)

Umberto shook his head, "Are you sure it's an act?"

Joe looked at Umberto, "You mean she has the power?"

"No, she manipulates through suggestion and deception, Guissepe. People were afraid of her in Sicily, that's why her family sent her to America."

"Steph called her a _Strega_ in the bakery about a month ago."

"Bella has heard it all her life. It gives her power. If people think she is a witch, she has control over them."

"But she's harmless, just the rantings of an old lady, isn't it?"

"She loves you, you are immune. How do she and Anthony get along?" Umberto asked.

Joe cringed, "He keeps his distance, he is afraid of her."

"See, she intimidates and manipulates."

000

Before we left Pino's I asked Hal if he had heard anything about Joe hitting me and repercussions.

"Yeah, he's got a 30 day suspension and folks are wondering why you haven't filed charges."

"I never considered it, after all I did say some nasty things to him."

"That's why the betting odds are you'll be back with him in less than a month. You flip flop like a dying fish; no offense Bomber."

"What?! What have you bet?" I asked him lowering my eye lids a bit.

He looked sheepish, "I'm holding off but if I don't see some action from you, I might agree with the odds."

"If I take your weapon and go shoot the bastard, will you put your money on me?" I sneered. I looked at Lula, "Where's your money?"

Lula looked uncomfortable, "I'm keeping my options open."

Ram continued, "If you don't file against him, he'll only be disciplined for swinging at Eddie and will be reinstated after his suspension. If you do file, he might lose his job or at least a reduction in rank."

"And once again I come off as the bad person. 'Poor Joe Morelli, he's really messed up with crazy Stephanie. Now SHE has cost him his job." Darn it, I can't win. As we walked out of Pino's, Australia was once again on the table. It was far, far from Trenton. I wondered if Ranger would come to visit.

When we returned to the office and I went to get into my RAV, a dead rabbit lay beside the car door. The rabbit had a red bullseye painted on its

body. Normally I scream, pass out or go running into the office. Ranger said I was growing so instead I ran across Hamilton Avenue and threw myself into Hal's SUV. I did not scream, cry or throw up but it was a struggle.

Two men sat in a car down at the corner. One was short and slender, the other six feet, broad shoulder with a small gut. "Pity she recovered the hamster. It would have been better."

The second man nodded negatively, "Too small."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **The Group**

My older sister, Valerie has become the ideal Burg mother with four daughters. Her "perfect" first marriage ended in California with two daughters and the husband running off with the baby sitter. Returning to Trenton, she met Albert Kloughn, a somewhat competent attorney who resembled the Pillsbury doughboy. After her second daughter by Albert, Valerie lost most of the gained pregnancy weight and now was no longer skinny but showing a bit of the Hungarian middle age spread that was a curse to the Mazur's except for Grandma Mazur who was a Mazur by marriage only. Val's days were spent cleaning, cooking, ironing and shopping just as her mother had done. Finances are tight. Her husband Albert, though loving was not a strong provider and the family struggled constantly. But Valerie was happy. Mary Alice, the tomboy in the group had outgrown the idea of being a horse and now insisted on boys' toys such as basketballs, footballs. The other girls were enrolled in ballet. Mary Alice refused dance class to the point of locking herself in the family's only bathroom and refusing to come out until her mother acquiesced and allowed her to play girls soccer.

Tuesdays was a busy day for Val and the girls. Mary Alice had soccer and the older Lisa and younger Gloria had ballet. The baby was still learning to walk and stuck close to Mom. Some days Valerie dropped the baby off with our mother, but the third Tuesday Mom and Grandma Mazur had hair appointments. Everyone knows, once you have a good stylist, you book your appointments months in advance.

With the baby in her car seat in the second row, the first pickup was Mary Alice from soccer. She gladly jumped into the third row seats, stopping to tickle her baby sister's tummy. Next stop was for the ballerinas. Lisa the oldest got in the seat next to her mother and Gloria got in behind her mother. After double checking everyone was properly buckled in their car seats, boosters, or safety belts in the family van, Valerie headed home.

A garbage truck barreling down Oden failed to stop at a red light, broadsiding the family van. Instead of stopping, the truck accelerated pushing the van into the side of Tuleo's auto repair. The first crash was fearsome; the second crash against the building was terrifying. The entire cinder block building shook as the wall caved in. The men and women inside fled for fear the rest of the building would collapse.

At first everyone thought the garbage truck was the sole vehicle. People rushed to the cab but found no driver. Nobody could adequately describe who was driving as he disappeared quickly. Most agreed it was a man, maybe 5'8", slender, dark hair, but that was it.

Police and emergency rescue were quickly on the scene. "There's a van under the rubble," somebody yelled but removing the debris brought more falling down. Access to the crumpled van was by way of inside the building. Carefully the shelves were emptied of their automotive parts while the ever present danger of more roof or wall collapsing threatened everyone.

Nobody knew how many were trapped inside the debris covered van. The only sound came from the baby wailing from inside the wreck. Her piercing cries tore the hearts of the rescuers and bystander alike.

The van had to be literally cut apart to get everyone out. Piece by piece it was disassembled and the smallest EMT's were sent inside the crumbled vehicle to assess the injured. Gradually several passenger regained consciousness and were screaming from fear or pain. Rescuers and bystanders assumed death would be found in the vehicle, but quickly became aware there were five seriously injured people inside.

Two children, one in what was left of the front seat and the baby were the first rushed St. Francis. Treatment was begun on both though no adult family member had yet been identified to give medical permission. Finally a fireman found the car's registration and word went out, Albert Kloughn, the attorney. Policeman Eddie Gazarra immediately contacted Rangman. I was literally lifted from my desk chair by Ranger and carried to the elevator. "Valerie and the girls have been in a bad accident, we are getting Albert then continuing St. Francis," was all he said.

We drove by Albert's office and rushed him to the hospital. By the time Ranger and I arrived, the other 2 girls and Valerie had been brought in. Tank and Bobby appeared several minutes later. When Bobby the Rangeman trauma doctor appeared, an intern came out, "We could use your help." My mother, father and Grandma Mazur arrived 20 minutes later. Mrs. Kloughn, Albert's mother, was not far behind.

The waiting room held three groups; my mother, father and grandmother in one group, Albert, his mother and me in another. Ranger and Tank were observing both. No words were exchanged between the groups. Albert said nothing, just stared as he held onto my hand and his mother's hand. Every so often Ranger answered his phone perhaps getting updates on the search for the driver.

After several hours of little or no updates, my mother became hysterical, "I want to see my daughter and granddaughters right now. Nobody is telling me anything, I have a right to know what is going on."

When the nurse tried to calm her down, my mother threw the nurse aside, becoming more vocal and marching up to Albert. "You spineless wimp, why aren't you demanding to see your family?"

Much to everyone surprise Albert rose and looked her in the eyes, "Because I am not a doctor and neither are you. They need to concentrate their efforts on my wife and four daughters, not deal with some hysterical woman in the lobby."

Before my mother could recover and begin a new tirade, Daddy came over and dragged his wife away. Grandma came and sat next to me, "She's losing it. I should have brought the bottle."

Well after midnight a very tired looking doctor came out and talked to the desk nurse then came over to Albert. "You are Mr. Kloughn?"

"I'm Dr. Springer, we've been very busy, I'm sorry we couldn't get out earlier with updates. The baby is fine, bruises only. She's sleeping now. Your wife will be out surgery shortly. She has the most serious injuries, fractured pelvis, left arm and left leg, as well a ruptured diaphragm. Your other three daughters are in critical condition with various injuries.

Consulting a piece of paper, Lisa, the eldest is out of surgery now. She lost her spleen, four broken ribs, and bruised lungs. Mary Alice has a head concussion. Her right shoulder and arm are broken. We do not have to put her into an induced coma, she's tough and coming holding her own.

Finally Gloria also has left side injuries; her left leg is severely broken. Orthopedic surgeon will determine how to repair it which will be done tomorrow morning at the earliest. Her left arm is also fractured as is her jaw. The leg fracture is close to the growth plates but we are hopeful it will not affect her future growth. Your family is extremely lucky to have survived but recovery will be difficult and long.

Albert, Mrs. Kloughn, mother, daddy, Grandma Mazur, and I took turns sitting with the injured family members in ICU. Caught up in the bedlam it never occurred to me this was the "group" Ranger had been warned about. Ranger; however knew from the moment he received word of the accident and victims. Why was someone trying to wipe out the Plum girls? He immediately set up protection for them in the hospital.

Ranger was also concerned about my mother and father. He had a patrol follow Daddy on his early morning taxi job. The following Monday morning as Daddy let his faire off at the transit station a bullet passed just inches from his head blowing out the window on the passenger's side. Daddy was able to drive off out of danger. Fortunately for the Plums, the person with the rifle was either a lousy shot or the rifle had a defective scope.

000

Albert virtually lived at the hospital, leaving just long enough for a shower and fresh clothes. I put in a couple of hours every day with Valerie and her children. Mrs. Kloughn, my mother, grandmother and father did the yeoman's job. Mother, Daddy and my arrivals and departures were a slight of hand exercise with Rangeman and undercover cars trying to confuse whoever was trying to kill us.

Peter Mattuci was still on my mind. He was due for another shopping trip. On the way back from the hospital I asked my driver, Woody, to drive to the store looking for the rusty blue Toyota. I spotted it near the store and we parked nearby. Immediately Peter he came running out pushing the cart with maybe a dozen items. As he opened the trunk to throw in his groceries, I walked up behind him and saw the gun in the back of his pants. As he leaned over, I grabbed the gun. The gun was too light. I stared at it realizing it was a water pistol.

Peter whirled around still holding groceries in his hand. "What the hell…." he said.

"You hold up groceries stores with a water pistol," I laughed.

"I don't want to hurt anybody," he shrugged.

"The police aren't going to stop and say, 'Peter, put down the water pistol,' they are going to shoot you."

He shrugged, "What does it matter? I'm a failure, I can't make babies."

"Some men go out of their way not to make babies through vasectomies," I countered. "Most men your age were trying to avoid fatherhood."

"Yeah but I wanted a baby. Sheila divorced me and immediately got pregnant by her new husband."

"Maybe your guys are slow swimmers. Did you ever have them tested?

"I'm not a premature ejaculator," he mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. "Those are two different conditions, Peter. Maybe you needed to change underwear."

"Say what?! How dare you insinuate…"

"No, different type, let the guys hang loose and cool, maybe you needed to keep your boys cooler."

I guess I over stepped the line because immediately the cake he had been holding lost its plastic dome and came crashing into my face.

He started laughing, so I shot him with his water pistol.

He picked a piece of cake from my hair and ate it, "Yum, want some?"

I started laughing and I wiped some cake off my face with my left hand and flicked it back at him.

Food fight! Woody had left the SUV watching for assassins but also stood far enough back so as not to be splattered with the colored icing.

Eventually I remembered I had to handcuff Peter, so when he reached for more icing, I grabbed his arm, slapped the cuff onto his wrist and spun him around and secure the other hand. He didn't resist. I took a cake piece off my shoulder and gave it to Peter.

"Does that mean we are married now?" he asked with a smile.

I laughed and hoped he wasn't serious. I have enough man problems. We had to get to TPD before the police showed up giving more fodder to the Burg gossip.

I crawled in back with Peter while Woody drove to TPD. There was no way I could walk into TPD with my brightly smeared shirt. I removed my Rangeman polo shirt, giving Peter full view of my sports bar. "Think of it as a very large bikini top." I wiped my face and hair as best I could, turned the shirt inside out and put it back on. That way the mess would be inside out of view, mostly.

"Peter, why are you robbing grocery stores?" I asked.

"I'm hungry, I don't have a job, my life is crap," he slumped down in the seat.

"Yeah, me too, welcome to the club," I responded. "Have you applied for a job?"

"No."

"I heard Stefan Capello the butcher needs someone to do odd jobs. With Mr. Margola still out of commission for a while, Capello's is busy. At least it is money for groceries."

At TPD I endured all the smiles and guffaws about the shortening based frosting in my hair, "Trying for a new look Plum?" I was grateful Morelli was still on suspension.

Out in the parking lot Ranger had replaced Woody. Standing against the 911 with his arms crossed. "Babe, apparently you forgot all our vehicles have cameras inside and out."

I flashed on my polo shirt reversal. "I implore you to keep the video off the web, please."

"It's secure. I had to come and see for myself so I sent Woody back to Haywood to clean the car. He's a bit….shaken. He's not used to seeing you…in action," Ranger smiled a full grin.

He looked into my hair and seeing the white, green and red icing he raised an eyebrow. "You have cake in your hair."

Seeing as I was close enough I raised my shirt and showed him my frosting covered bra and abdomen. "And my body as well."

There was a trace of mirth on his lips. "No Babe, no way I'm licking that off you, but my imagination runs wild. Let's go to the shower." Was that plural as in WE ?

After spreading a plastic sheet over the seat, I angled in and own into the Porsche seat trying to keep my arms contained. If I got icing on the Turbo, Ranger would probably replace the whole car. As we drove down Hamilton Ranger said, "Babe the shortening based frosting ought to make your hair silky smooth.

I looked at him. "How do you know that?"

"Sisters, they'd smear Crisco through their hair before washing it as a conditioner. "

"Did it work?"

"I don't know, but my mother was upset at the amount of shortening they used."

As we approached Rangeman, Ranger spoke, "I need to get something from the shop. Stay in the car, please."

It was a minor request and carried the "P" word, so I shrugged my acquiescence. Ranger returned from the ship with a jar of something in one hand when he opened the car door to let me out. I immediately realized he was putting himself between me and any threat.

Once up to 7 he led me to the shower. We both dropped our clothes and shoes outside the door and stepped in. I reached for the water but he quickly said, "Not yet." Opening the plastic jar he reached his fingers in and pulled out a handful of white stuff and began smearing my hair and body, paying attention to the red and green colored areas. I would much prefer Bulgari soap.

"What is that stuff?"

"Goop hand cleaner; originally designed for mechanics to remove oil from their hands. It is waterless, rub it in, and wipe it off. I suspected we'd need something more powerful than body wash or shampoo for the dyed areas."

"Isn't it too harsh for use in hair or skin?"

"The citrus oil based version would be, but this is the original formula, it has lanolin." As his fingers worked their magic I chastised myself for not spreading the icing beyond my bra and stomach. After wiping off as much of the goo, we showered, just showered. Maybe I was disappointed it didn't progress further but I knew Ranger was giving me space. I actually appreciated it. I kissed him lightly, "Thank for being a gentleman."

"It wasn't easy, but I'm trying." When we are finished showering, we dressed and went for our first appointment to the psychologist. The first appointment was with us together. In the future we'd been seen separately.

When Dr. Sturgess asked me why I decided to come for counseling I answered succinctly, "My life is crap."

"Well, our job here is to dig down through the excrement. Are we going to need a small shovel or large?"

"Large excavator," I replied.

000

Peter Matucci was released on his own recognizance the next day. I felt sorry for Peter so Woody and I were outside the TPD when he was released. Yes, Woody agreed to another day with me. He'd regret that decision.

"Peter, we will drive you home. I've also got about 2 weeks of groceries for you. Friends have moved your car back to your apartment."

He stood and stared at me like I was speaking foreign language called compassion. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"You aren't a dangerous person, you've been depressed. Maybe a hand up will get you back into life again," I answered. Plus I liked the guy; after all, we both like birthday cake.

Peter lived in Villa Park, just north of the Burg in an upstairs "apartment" of a ramshackle single story home; basically he lived in the attic. It was the last stop before homelessness, maybe worse judging how hot the attic must be in summer.

We reported our destination to Rangman as Woody drove to Peter's place on Murphy. Fortunately there was a parking space two houses down from Peters so we didn't have to carry the groceries too far. Once inside the front door, three of us we started up the stairs to the attic. What we did not see was someone across the street with a rocket launcher. We were halfway up the stairs to the attic when the incendiary rocket streaked across the street, clipped the front porch column, exploded and blew through the thin wooden front door.

Peter had just opened the attic door when the house front door exploded and the force of the blast threw Woody and I down onto the steps and Peter into his apartment. Woody grabbed my arm but I was already up and running up the remaining stairs. We threw ourselves onto the floor, rolling about least our clothes were on fire. The smell of kerosene was strong. The whole house would like catch fire within minutes. We needed to get out, but how? Fire was burning at the bottom of the steps and quickly climbing. The only exits were 2 windows; one on the north, one on the south with 18 foot drops to the hard ground below; instant shattered legs. An attic vent on one side overlooked a metal awning over a side door. There was no discussion, Woody kicked out the vent slats, grabbed Peter, pushed him out and screamed, "Get out!" I didn't need to be told, I was on Peter's heels out the small opening. The awning wasn't designed for people falling onto it and bulged down under Peter's weight. When I bailed out right behind him, the metal awning groaned. Woody was right behind me and all three of us over powered the aluminum awning and it crumbled to the ground. At the same moment we began our ride on the awning, a second rocket was launched into the back of the house. The projectile shattered the kitchen window, severed the gas line on the hot water heater and instantly the house became fully engulfed in flame.

000

The fire department cordoned off the block with the burning house and was evacuating neighboring homes. Ranger and Tank walked among the bystanders looking for Stephanie and Woody while asking if anyone escaped. They learned Peter lived in the attic and any occupants were probably trapped. Woody's car was just visible at the curb hidden by firetrucks.

Ranger knew Stephanie did not panic nor did Woody. If there was any way to escape, they had and were probably hiding someplace. Ranger had already tried Woody's and Stephanie's phone, they went to voice message.

Ranger and Tank eased past the police barricades moving to the next street and then worked their way back between the houses towards the back of burning building. Without a word spoken each began checking out neighboring yards. Tank saw something out of place, amidst the weeds and shrubs, behind a rusty metal shed.

Testing the old wood fence to see if it would hold his weight, Tank hopped over. Ranger caught the movement and was quick to follow. Carefully parting the vegetation, Tank found Peter cuddled up against Stephanie who was cuddled against Woody. All were bloody and bruised, only Woody suffered a major injury, a broken arm. All were singed.

The three were secretly taken to Rangeman's clinic to be checked out. For a while Stephanie needed to be missing. Peter would remain at Rangeman for a while. Bobby took Woody to a hospital outside of Trenton.

000

I woke up sore from bailing out the window and riding the metal awning to the ground. I had carefully showered when I got back and Ranger smeared me with salve for the burns.

"You'll need to visit Mr. Alexander at some point," he said as he helped me comb my hair.

"Can you cut off the burned parts and save me the trip?"

He agreed it would be safer not to be visiting the mall. Once the hair was combed out, he carefully sectioned it off and trimmed off the burned hair.

"So help me if you tell any of the men I cut your hair, I'll shave you bald in your sleep," he warned. His mood was lousy, but he was being accommodating.

While we both slept in the same bed we didn't touch. I was burned and bruised and he was upset. For a change he wasn't upset with me. This time I had Rangeman cover and still was nearly taken out. I thought about the money Ranger was spending keeping me and my family safe. How long before the monetary drain would cause a strain in our newly developing relationship? Maybe this latest incident proved I was too dangerous, too incompetent, too expensive to have as a girlfriend. Joe insinuated any money Ranger had was ill gained. Joe knew nothing about Ranger's government contracts or the other Rangeman offices. In Joe's opinion most of the staff at Rangeman came from the New Jersey penal system and used a legitimate security company to hide their nefarious activities much the same way the mafia hid behind landfill contractors, construction facilitators, gambling, or importers from Italy. Australia was back on my mind. I wasn't worth the trouble.

The next morning my phone rang, it was Bobby. "How do you feel?"

"I hurt all over," I said before I thought to temper the response. Bobby seemed to know when I was stretching the truth anyway.

"Steph, you are not 21 years old anymore. Your body is getting older and you aren't fighting back. Your muscle density is low, you aren't exercising, your eating is horrible. You will feel bumps and bruises more than before. In another 10 years your ability to absorb this abuse will be gone."

"Thank you Dr. Killjoy," I snarled but had to admit I was slower in recovering from misadventures than a few years ago.

He chuckled, "Take the Advil Ranger set out, please. And come see me today. Your right knee felt a bit loose in yesterday's exam."

I promised with my fingers crossed but as I started towards the closet my right knee jolted me with pain. Darn Bobby.

 **000**

With only his car to sleep in, Peter Mateucci decided to take my advice and go to Stefan Capella and inquire about a job.

"Why you wanna work here?" Stefan asked.

"I'm homeless but not useless. I had a job but divorce took my mind for a while. I need to get back into life."

Stefan was also divorced and fully understood Peter's dilemma. "You will help with deliveries, clean up the work room, burn the ice in the display case at night. I will show you how. Come in early and refresh the ice for that day's display."

Peter agreed, tied on the apron and learned about running a meat market. In time he might be able to move out of his car, at least he still had that.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The Rangeman guard outside two of the Kloughn girls' room carefully checked the short, cute, Philippine nurse's identification. The picture matched the woman and corresponded the the hospital staff sheet listed for this floor's shift. Everything aligned.

"Purpose for you visit," Raphael asked. He noticed the wedding ring on her finger and reined-in the 2% of his attention that thought she might be worth dating. He was 100% back in Rangeman mode.

"Medication."

Raphael pulled back the blue cloth to see the small cup with the blue pills. They looked like Viagra, but he was no pharmacist and surely didn't need the helper pills…maybe in several decades. He knew something was wrong but continued, "According to my schedule sheet, it is too early."

"Doctor's orders," the nurse said.

"Not according to my updated schedule. What doctor?"

The nurse was getting agitated, "This is personal medical information you are not entitled to, mister."

"Mister?" Raphael asked with a large scoop of wariness. All nurses had been told the purpose of the large men dressed in black and to defer to their questions and instructions.

The nurse turned to walk away towards the stairs, not the nurse's station, but Raphael grabbed her arm. "Hold on, we'll check your orders," as he flicked the Blue Tooth device on, "Code Red Room 314!" In an instant the nurse ran, but Raphael was faster. As he turned he thought he saw a shadow on the girls' suite door.

Still holding the nurse, he dragged her along back to room 314 where he saw a man next to Mary Alice's bed.

"Stop! Don't touch her!" Raphael screamed as he drew his weapon.

Mary Alice was partially sitting up watching television. Being much like her aunt Stephanie, she reacted instantly to Raphael's warning and threw her arm up knocking the syringe out of the man's hand.

The man was trapped in the room with Mary Alice in one bed, her sister Lisa in another, and Raphael at the door holding a fighting and scratching nurse. The man moved towards Lisa with a knife. "Don't move, don't think." Behind him he heard the stairwell door crash open knowing his back up would soon arrive.

Lester and Bink saw Raphael's weapon drawn and didn't need to ask what happened; Bink immediately cuffed the nurse and Lester pulled a Taser from his belt and jolted the man before he got any closer to Lisa. Raphael sent a warning to the other guard on Gloria and Valerie's room one floor down. Hal already had cuffed another nurse trying to gain access to the mother-daughter room. He looked down the hall and saw a man scrubs duck into a patient's room he knew was empty. Plus the man paused and looked over his shoulder. Hal called a code red for his floor as well.

Hector and Cal came up the far stairs and Hal directed them to the room as he continued to hold the now handcuffed nurse. Cal peeked into the room, no patients, in fact no beds. "Here's the way it's going to go down," Cal said loudly into the room. "Come out peacefully with your hands raised or it gets worse; bullet, stunner, pepper spray, your choice." There was no answer.

Hector appeared beside Cal. "Oh, did I tell you there are two of us. My partner is an expert with a knife, so your choices just increased: bullet, stunner, pepper spray or knife."

 _"_ _Baciami il culo_ ," came the voice from inside. (Kiss my ass!)

 _"_ _Con piacere,"_ Hector replied with a laugh. (With pleasure)

With such bravado coming from the trapped person, both Rangemen realized the person inside was probably armed.

Hector took out his weapon and removed his service belt. Cal knew what Hector was going to do without asking. The trapped man was probably just around the corner and not in the bathroom. There was no food cart to to send crashing into the room to create a distraction, Hector would be entering on his own. Backing into the room across the way to get a running start, Hector fell to the floor and slid into the room across the highly polished foor. He slid on his side, gun drawn so as to be facing facing into the room. Hector had a microsecond to determine the weapon. It was a knife, not a gun. As the man jumped toward Hector, Cal was behind him and put the stunner against his neck. The knife went to the floor immediately followed by the man. As Hector cuffed him, he looked carefully. This was not one of the men to broke into Stephanie's apartment. This one was entirely new.

000

Both nurses were near hysterics finally admitted they were forced to cooperate as their families had been threatened with surveilance photos showing the nurses' homes, family members, and pets.

The detained men were defiant, but said nothing. Ranger wanted to get them into Rangeman's cells for a interogation, but instead the police had them in custody. The only word uttered by either was the Italian curse given to Cal. It would take time just to identify them, time Ranger was sure was not available.

000

Neither arrested man from the hospital had spoken. Finger prints came back unknowns. Copies were sent to Interpol as well as Italy's _Guardia di Finanza_ since one had spoken three words in Italian. The police waited for results.

Originally Stephanie's apartment vandalism was a low priority case for Trenton police as her place was so often vandalized. But the attempted killing of the Kloughn women by the garbage truck and attempt in the hospital, rifle shots at Stephane and Frank Plum, Peter Matucci's home explosion combined to make the home invasion weeks ago all the more relevant.

LeRoy's tip to Ranger that the assaults may trace back to the Italians was playing true. As to who was behind all this mayhem, Joe Morelli was still on the list. He was already on suspension for swinging at Eddie and the police chief was looking into further charges with the assault on Stephanie. However, he had been cleared on the breaking and entering charges on her apartment, but nobody knew if he was part of the plot, whatever it was. An alternative suspect was an 87 year old woman that terrorized the Burg, Bella. Once again Bella was neither the one who entered Stephanie's apartment or drove the garbage truck that attempted to kill the Kloughn women. Burg residents believed Bella "had the power, the m _alocchio_ " but not " _mutaforma_ " the ability to shape shift.

Stephanie and Hal had reported meeting Joe and Joe's uncle in Pino's. Ranger had Hector running searches on Umberto Russo from Sicily and Tuscany. This was a job perfectly suited to Stephanie's ability, but she was too closely involved. Plus she didn't speak Italian and Hector did. On the first search all Hector could find was an Umberto Russo in Carrara, Tuscany, Italy home of the famous white marble. This fit with his profession as a marble dealer. Personal information, other than an office and apartment, was nonexistent. Why did Umberto say he was from Sicily? Was he born on the island, did he still live there and keep a Tuscan address for the marble business? Further search of the limited records Hector could access found no Umberto Russo in his age range ever having lived in Sicily.

Hector then tried a back door approach to determine if Umberto had another name. Going through immigration records and marriage license Hector discovered Bella came to this country with the maiden name of Reisi, Labelladonna Reisi. Hector snickered, what a perfect name for Bella, Belladonna, the name of an extremely toxic plant rumored to have been used to kill the wife of Emperor Augustus and Claudius.

Once again Hector failed to make a connection. There was no Labelladonna Reisi listed with Sicilian ancestry. Records were sparse back then, it wasn't an end to the search, just a momentary road block.

Hector wasn't deterred; he loved these challenges, though they took time. Eventually he was able to find a young woman name Belladonna Casciaferro traveling with another woman named Ladonna Reisi. He picked up their trail in Valletta, Malta and followed it to Cagliari, Sardinia then onto Marseille, France where somehow Casciaferro disappeared and Ladonna Reisi and her niece Labelladonna Reisi sailed to London. From London Labelladonna Reisi traveled alone to America.

So who were Stella and Umberto? With a new last name Hector quickly found Estrella Casciaferro married Umberto Martino-Greco and Umberto had a sister Ladonna Martino-Greco who had married Alfredo Reisi but who died of lead poisoning, he was shot. Apparently Joe's great uncle had two names: Russo and Martino-Greco.

When Hector ran the names Casciaferro and Martino-Greco he knew he had something important. Hector put the report on Ranger's desk and marked it urgent

000

"Guiesppe, why are you not at work?" Umberto asked.

"I need to talk to Bella?"

"What's wrong?"

"Someone is trying to hurt Stephanie and her family. The police are questioning me, ME!"

"You think Bella knows something?

"Zio, Bella knows everything. She watches people and knows all the gossip. Someone has tried to shoot Stephanie outside a hardware store and then blow her up in a house. This by itself is nothing new. She's a train wreck, getting herself into trouble, but someone is also trying to kill her sister, her nieces and her father. They are targeting the Plums."

"Why would Bella want to hurt her family?"

"It doesn't make sense. Mama and Helen Plum are friends. The sister's husband is an attorney. He doesn't handle criminal cases."

"All it takes is someone crazy Giuseppe, you know that."

"Yeah, but two men attempted to assassinate her sister and nieces in the hospital. The men were apprehended but aren't talking except for three words in Italian."

Umberto looked troubled, "What three words?"

Joe smiled, " _Baciami il culo."_

Umberto laughed, "Apparently university educated." Turning more serious, "You think local Italians, Family, are responsible?"

"Terri Gilman says no. Her uncle is head of the family here. The mens' finger prints aren't on file anywhere in this country. What if they are from Italy?"

"Does Bella still have friends in Italy?" Umberto looked confused.

"Not that I know of, just you Zio."

"Is she friends with any of the local Families?"

"Si, si, they go to church together, attend weddings, confirmations, funerals. The bigger families are up in Newark and New York. As far as I know Bella hasn't been out of Trenton for years."

"But she has a cell phone."

"Nona has a cell phone?" Joe was shocked. His mother's phone was the older type that hung on the wall just like Helen Plum's.

"Si, I saw it stick out of her sweater pocket." Umberto wondered what else Bella was keeping from her family. Perhaps she was more friendly with the local Families than anyone believed. Bella always had many secrets. "I'll tell her you want to talk to her."

"Thank you Zio. Thank you. When do you return home?"

"Tomorrow, late flight."

"Safe journey, Zio, God be with you," Joe said and he hugged his great uncle.

000

Bella and her brother in law Umberto sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of Grappa between them. Both in very advanced years, they had to be careful not to indulge too much in the clear super potent alcohol.

"Guiseppe stopped by to see you earlier," Umberto said.

"He's a fine boy, so respectful."

"He wants to know if you have heard anything about the problems his girlfriend and her family are having."

Bella became agitated, "She is not his girlfriend. She is a _putana_!"

Umberto watched his sister in law carefully, "He loves her."

"NO! Years ago she tried to kill him by running him over with her father's car. They met again and started sleeping together. Joe talked of marriage but she runs off and then comes back. Back and forth. She keeps two men's beds warm, Giuseppe's and the Cuban's."

Umberto sucked in. "Do you have proof?"

"When she is afraid she no longer run to Guiseppe, she run to the building the Cuban has his business. She spends the night, sometimes many nights. I see her in my mind, I get into her dreams and tell her she's a whore for keeping two men's beds warm. She no good for Guiseppe, he needs a good, decent woman to bear his children."

"What about her sister?"

"Good Burg girl, husband in California walk out on her so she move back and marry attorney. He's a _stunard_ but at least he's here and provides for the family." Bella' speech was reverting back to immigrant the more Grappa she threw back. " They have 4 girls, two from the first husband but the clown adopt them plus add two of his own. Nice family, very respectful. The _putana_ has nothing, she not a worthy woman."

"Because she has no children?"

"Her first attorney needs more in bed than what wife provide. He find another. The _putana_ divorce him pretend to be proper. Then she and Guiseppe get together. She soon finds the Cuban. The Cuban disappears for months at a time so the whore runs back to Guiseppe. He is a gentleman and cannot throw the _putana_ out. He begs her to marry him. She runs to Cuban. So Guiseppe waits patiently. No other woman for him, he say. Maybe if she with child she change her mind, but Guiseppe is a gentleman, no wanna baby before marriage. So no children."

Umberto watched his sister in law carefully. He could read people well, it had kept him alive all these years. He was certain Bella was lying. "Tell me what happened in the market several weeks ago."

Bella was surprised he knew about it. "The whore was there with her evil grandmother. I was having fun throwing eggs at them."

"Someone was hurt.," her brother in law stated.

Bella shrugged, "Si, si, that _stunard_ Margola should have stay in back. No, he come out front and slip."

"You cursed Guiseppe's girlfriend," Umberto said quietly.

"No, no, she is a whore, not his girlfriend. She insult Morelli family." Bella was getting agitated and leapt up from the table.

"And Guiseppe is suspension for hitting her. You ended up hurting your grandson."

"She call Morelli men evil! They were all good men, not _femminucce_ (sissies) like today," Bella spat. "Maybe now he find a proper woman for a wife."

Umberto knew about the Morelli men. Men who thought they could ride the Casciaferro name into importance here. Umberto had to clean up their problems years ago and apparently he would have to clean up another; this one for his great nephew, Joseph, the only honorable Morelli. Umberto sighed, he was too old and too ill for this.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Warning:**

 ***** ICKY*****

 **"** **M" Rating**

I yawned as I drank my early morning coffee.

"Still sleepy Babe?" Ranger asked as he finished tying is dress shoes. Ranger was in a suit and tie. He had an important breakfast meeting with a high end client.

"I have an aversion to getting up before the sun, you know that."

Bobby is waiting for you in the gym to work on your knee before you go to the bonds office," he said as he kissed my curls.

"My knee is fine..." I tried to dismiss.

"Babe, its swollen and stiff, let Bobby work on it."

"He'll just continue to rag me about my eating habits," I moaned.

"Maybe it's time to cut back a little on the sugar."

"What did you say?" My head jerked up and I was warming to rhino mode.

"I said a little. You say sugar makes you happy but you also have mood swings when you are without your fix."

"Is this a conspiracy or intervention? Are you saying I'm a sugar addict that I can't go without my fix? Maybe you'd rather have me on uppers?" I stood huffing with my hands on my hips.

Ranger stood there and gave a tiny smile, "You made my point. We've, as in all of us here, are just trying to level out your moods. Babe I want the best for you."

"Go, go, go save the world Ranger," I said as I quickly deflated.

"Maybe I'll call Tasty Pastry and tell them to hide the Boston cremes and maple bars."

"You wouldn't dare," I fumed.

"No, I wouldn't dare, but it's something to think about Babe," he gently said as he gave me another good morning kiss.

Ranger left and after rinsing my cup and placing it in the dishwasher, I put on my shorts and black Rangeman t-shirt and went to the gym. Before leaving the apartment I called the bonds office. "Has someone picked up doughnuts today?"

Lula was heard in the background, "Hell yes we need doughnuts. I'll run down the street to get a bag of coffee, we are nearly out."

"I'll be there in about 90 minutes" and I hung up.

First stop was the clinic where Bobby examined my knee. "Let's go to the gym." Not my favorite location but I was going to have to make friends with it sooner rather than later. After a spin on the stationary bike and a mile walk on treadmill which was more like a limp than walk, Bobby manipulated the knee, testing for range of motion and pain. "Let's move over to the weights, I'd like you start building up the quads in your legs, they will help stabilize the knee." When the workout was complete I wanted to crawl out of the gym. Is this what my life will be like? I carefully showered, avoiding the burns, and dressed for the day. Bobby said to ice my knee, I could do that at the office or back here later.

Before leaving the apartment I phoned in an order to Tasty Pastry for the bonds office as well as the Rangeman office. If I had to give up, or cut back on sugar, I was going to have one last fling with the forbidden fried dough. Cal was waiting for me in the garage, "I'm your shadow today."

I gave him a hug, "Our first top is Tasty Pastry, then the office before coming back here." Cal acknowledged with a nod.

Cal found a parking place a few doors down from the bakery. "I've preordered, so this should be quick," I said as I angled out of the car and into the shop. Would this be my last visit to the shop? If Ranger had is way it would be. I glanced behind the counter but Kathy Zulinsky wasn't there.

"Where's Kathy."

The man behind the counter said she took a personal day, something came up. He had a Burg accent but was dressed in dark trousers, white shirt and when he moved forward I noted he was wearing loafers. He wasn't exactly dressed in bakery attire, dark pants and loafers? I remembered the loafers. One of the apartment intruders wore them. "I forgot something," I said as I tried to escape. Turning around I headed for the door, but the man grabbed a Taser and sent the two barbs into my back. My body sizzled for a moment and went dark.

ooo

As Stephanie was jerking around from the electrical charge, another man, 6' tall with dark hair, broad chest and with a slight stomach bulge scrambled around the counter, picked her up, went out the back door as the younger man opened the van's back door. The large man set Stephanie down in the back, then the two men got in and casually drove down the alley and turned left, away from Hamilton Avenue. It took less than two minutes from the moment the Taser was discharged.

Cal had been on these doughnut runs before and knew they took only a few minutes, but those minutes were up. He leapt from the Rangeman vehicle and ran into Tasty Pastry. Stephanie's satchel was on the floor but that was it. No counter help. Rangeman was immediately notified as Cal went running out the back door. He saw brake lights and probably a black van at the far end of the alley. Returning to the kitchen he found Kathy Zulinsky and the baker Luccio Benolli gagged and tied up inside the walk in cooler. "They came in and read the takeout orders," Kathy said. "Then they tied us up."

"Who?" the Cal asked. "Can you identify them?"

"Not the taller one, but the shorter one is from around here. I don't know his name," Luccio the baker said.

Ranger had finished his breakfast meeting when the alert came out about Stephanie's disappearance. He was 15 minutes away from the bakery but made it in 7 minutes. The police cruisers were present and the crime lab truck was just pulling up. Ranger found a parking spot on a side street and hurried towards the bakery. The security cameras saw the abduction, Ranger recognized the two men as those from the apartment, but once again they were unknown.

Manuel on the monitors reported the tracking devices in Stephanie's jacket were active. The black van was found parked four blocks away. It had been stolen the night before. The jacket with the tracker was found along with one of her shoes. The assailants were no more than 3 minutes away, but the second vehicle was unknown. There were no street cameras recording the vehicle exchange.

Ranger rushed back to Rangeman to change into the Rangeman uniform. As he passed Hector, the smaller man said, " _Información importante en su escritorio."_

"I don't have time," Ranger growled.

Hector was nonpulsed by Ranger's moods, " _Tómate un tiempo, puede concernir a Estefanía._ (Make time, it may concern Estfania.)

Ranger read Hector's report and something wiggled in the back of his brain. He didn't need to check the time in Europe, he knew Alexander Ramos would be awake.

 _"_ _Kýrie Ramos, chreiázomai ti voítheiá sas." (_ Mr. Ramos, I need your help.)

 _"_ _Tha sas dóso onómata, onómata sikelikón í italikón apó to parelthón."_

( I'm going to give you names, Sicilian or Italian names from the past.)

Ramos chuckled, " _O enkéfalós mou eínai palaiós kai óchi tóso evéliktos." (_ My brain is old and not so flexible.)

Ranger read them off: "Labelladonna Casciaferro, Ladonna Reisi, Umberto Martino-Greco, …"

Alexander was blunt, _"Na stamtisei!"_ (Stop!) " _Nómiza óti ítan nekrós_ ." (I thought he was dead.)

"Poiós eínai aftos?" (Who is he?) Ranger asked.

 _"_ _Pantréftike tin Estrella Casciaferro, kóri tou Don Giuseppe Cascioferro. Umberto, eínai apó ti megáli oikogéneia Casteddu Greco._ "(He married Estrella Casciaferro, daughter of Don Guissepe Casciaferro. Umberto is from the greatest family Ciaschteddu Greco, Ramos replied. )

Ranger recognized the names of early Cosa Nostra families. " _Ti ékane?" (_ What did he do?) Ranger asked though he already had an idea.

"Dolofónos." (Assassin)

Ranger's blood ran cold. He did not speak for a while so Ramos began in English. "You bring up a very ugly past Carlos. Long ago there were big Cosa Nostra families; Casciaferro was one of the most influential. The greatest was Ciaschteddu-Greco. Umberto Martino-Greco married Stella Casciaferro, the eldest of the two Guissepe Casciaferro daughters. The youngest daughter was Labelladonna. It was seen as a merging at a time when the families of the First Commission were under attack by police and a special prosecutor named Morri. Umberto was once the best enforcer for the Casciaferro family but would never touch his own family, the Ciaschteddu-Greco."

"What happened to him?"

If Ranger was sitting face to face with Ramos he'd expect a shrug, " _Ítan chaméni sto chróno." (_ He was lost in time.) "His name faded away. Some say he died at the hand of Silvio La Barbera; others say he died of a broken heart when his wife, Stella, died. Others say he changed his name and moved but continued his work."

"Do you know what happened to him?" Ranger asked quietly.

 _"_ _Nai" (_ Yes) Alexander replied. "He changed his name."

"Umberto Russo, the marble dealer?" Ranger asked.

Alexander sighed, "Yes, we used him many years ago, but younger men came along."

"What do you know about a Labelladonna Casciaferro?"

"La Strega pazza?" (The crazy witch?) "Stella's younger sister was always trouble. Apparently the villagers threatened to stone her so she was sent away."

"Was she a witch?"

Ramos chuckled then coughed an old man's cough. "She was…difficult, persuasive, crazy, and maybe a witch."

"Do you know where they sent her?"

"No. Some said a mental facility, others said to the cloisters, most agreed it was best she was gone."

So Bella was the daughter of a Cosa Nostra Don and Umberto was an assassin. Was Bella targeting Stephanie? Probably. But why target the other Plums, Frank, Valerie and the girls?

000

Stefan did not open the shop this day, instead putting an apology on the door explaining he had family business to attend. The white delivery truck pulled up behind Stefan's meat market. The larger man with the flat derriere and small pot belly picked up Stephanie and threw her over his shoulder like a side of beef. The smaller man, 5'8" wearing loafers opened the door.

Stephanie had been secured with duct tape on her ankles, wrists and tape across her mouth. She could wiggle and make muffled noise, but that was all. The bigger man put her into a chair and ran another strip of duct tape to hold her into the chair. Turning to Stefan, "Call us for clean up." Then both left the meat market and drove off in the truck.

Stefan tore the tape off Stephanie's mouth not expecting her to immediately start screaming. A howl like a banshee came out her mouth. A solid right cross, unlike anything she had felt before knocked her out.

000

Umberto was upstairs packing for his trip back to Italy. Bella came up to say goodbye. "We are both old now, this may be our last time together. You have been a good brother in law, you loved and were kind to my sister, Stella. You were a man, very few of those left anymore."

Umberto began, "Ladonnabella, you must stop meddling in other people's lives. Anthony is afraid of you and as a result you have not gotten to know his lovely children. Let Guiseppe run his own life. Life as a policeman can suddenly end. It would be bad to have leave children without a father. Maybe it is best he remains unmarried."

She laughed, "I don't bother Anthony, I just give him heart burn. It is my job as matriarch of the family." She started walking away.

"Where are you going Bella?"

"To the Stefan's. He has special on tongue today." Umberto shuddered, he never liked beef tongue. He hoped it wasn't for dinner.

Umberto was just finishing packing when Joseph burst in, "Where's Bella?"

"Guiseppe what's wrong?"

"Stephanie has been kidnapped."

"When?"

I'm not part of the police force, someone called me. It may be an hour ago, probably less."

Umberto remembered Bella working around the kitchen all morning and had only just left the house. "Your _nona_ left for the butcher's about 15 minutes ago."

Joe rushed out, not even saying goodbye to his great uncle.

The market wasn't far, especially with a fast car. Joe leapt from his car but found the meat market with a closed sign and a note explaining it wouldn't open today. Joe knocked and then banged on the door. Finally Stefan came to the door, "I am closed, problems with the ice."

Before Stefan could close the door, Joseph pushed his way inside.

"The meat is fully iced," Joe commented as he looked at the counter.

Stefan answered with a Taser. The barbs buried themselves into Joe just as they had Stephanie. Joe jerked a few times before he fell to the floor.

Stephan was a strong man and has no trouble lifting Joe and throwing him over this shoulder. Carrying him back to the butcher area, he dropped Joe and secured his feet and hands together with duct tape. Then getting a step stool he lifted Joe and hung him by his taped wrists from an overhead meat hook.

Gradually Joe came around and began jerking trying to free himself from the hook. Seeing Stephanie across the room, bound with the same duct tape but apparently unconscious, he couldn't help himself. He began calling to her.

"Cupcake! Cupcake! Stephanie!," Joe yelled. Stefan grabbed a metal pipe and slammed his ribs, probably breaking several ribs. Joe slumped and quit yelling. He had more problems, breathing was difficult.

000

My head and jaw hurt, I couldn't remember what happened. As my eyes cleared I saw why I was unable to move, I was taped to a chair and my hands and feet were bound. I looked around and saw the big stainless steel table and good size butcher block. A large machine that resembled a band saw sat near the wall…..then I saw Joe. He was hanging from the ceiling; arms stretched overhead, head hung down with blood showing on his shirt. He was conscious but in obvious pain

I wanted to call to him but didn't have the strength, yet. Then I heard a knock, like someone knocking on the front door.

"Is she here?"

I recognized the voice, Bella, my worst nightmare.

"Si, si, plus your grandson," came a man's voice.

Bella broked into a tirade, _"Fesso, l'ho avvertito, lei è cattiva per lui. Lui può fare di meglio."_ ( Stupid, I warned him, she is bad for him. He can do better.)

"Nona?" Joe hissed through clenched teeth.

" _Ciuccio,_ (Jack ass) you are as stupid as your father. You waste your seed on _zoccola_ (slut) like this, all your life. You strut around like a horse with his _cazzo_ always aroused. Italian Stallion you call yourself. Where are your children? Where are your grandchildren? Maybe you don't have _testicoli_ you are nothing but _stronca.(AH)_

I don't speak much Italian but those words I knew. Joe and Stefan were silent. They have never heard such words from Bella Morelli. This the same lady who never missed Sunday Mass and often attended during the week?

No sooner had Bella finished her tirade, came another sound. The back door was opening. Peter Matucci was returning from making his deliveries.

Stefan the butcher walked through the work room towards the back door. Peter had not yet seen me, he was turned to the wall hanging up his jacket.

"You finish your deliveries?" Stefan asked as he put a stunner against Peter's neck. There was no flopping; Peter just fell to the floor.

000

Meanwhile a Rangeman security patrol was watching a white panel truck. The truck was in the middle of a vacant lot near the transit terminal, nowhere near a business. Two men exited the truck and removed magnetic signs for Albrecht Auto Repair revealing the logo for Stefan's Butcher stop.

When Manny and Ram got closer to the van, using binoculars Manny realized they were the ones who had tossed Stephanie's apartment. Manny had helped Hector define each frame of the video in hopes of identifying the men. A call was made to Ranger to update him on the two men and the tie in to Stefano Meat Market.

Another call was made to TPD stating the possible kidnappers had been spotted. A pursuit through Trenton and Hamilton Township began. The pursuit was short, TPD had the men in handcuffs. "Lenny Bravicola?" the one officer exclaimed. "When did you get out of the joint?" Turning to Ram the officer said, "Lenny is a "job" man for the mob in Newark. 'Have stupid, will do dirty work.'"

Turning to the smaller man, "This is Carlito Ponce, local boy. Used to work for Grizzoli but I understand he was demoted and has been taking "odd jobs."

000

Peter was carried into the work room and dropped on the far side of the table. He was not bound. I looked back at Joe but he was staring at his grandmother. Bella is laughing, obviously happy after her venom filled rant to her grandson.

"Nona, why are we here?" Joe whipsered.

"For justice," Bella yelled.

Joe was confused and looked around the butcher work room. Suddenly he saw something out of place in the butchering area.

"Is that Stephanie's cookie jar? Why is it here Nona?"

"Now you see Joseph how honor is restored. I am going to send her head back to her father in the cookie jar."

"No, Nona, no. Why? That's murder, you can't do that, I love her."

"It is not murder! It is justice! You love nobody Joe but your _cazzo._ She wronged you Joseph. She no want to marry you, she run to the Cuban then she run back to you. She is a whore. She keeps two beds warm. She does not honor you."

Through my pain I heard her words, the same words, the same voice as in my dreams. Had this evil woman invaded my head? Had she been controlling me all these weeks, months, and years? The boils, pimples, the vordo curse, maybe all the exploding cars, was she really a witch?

Stefan brought the cookie jar over and held it against my head, "It won't fit. Her head is too large."

For a moment, Bella is confused; "Then cut off her hands, _giampoe_!" (idiot)

"No Nona, No!" Joe pleaded. The pain in his side was too much to allow much movement.

The old lady cackled and picked up a knife off the butcher block, "Then I'm going to use this, this filet knife to remove her grandmother's tongue for cursing me in her foul language."

This wasn't happening. It must be a dream, another nightmare. If I scream perhaps Ranger, Bobby, or someone will wake me up. I began screaming wiggled around trying to break the tape holding me.

Stefan walked over and slapped my face, my jaw exploded in pain. I hadn't realized my jaw was broken.

"You are a disgrace Joseph; you spread your seed in this trash and _puttanas_ here and across the river. You profess your love to this… _questo pezzo di letame_. This piece of manure. She is our enemy and must die!"

Bella paced between Joe hanging from the meat hook and me. "You, your father, my idiot husband, Anthony, Mooch, Morellis are losers! My marriage was to be arranged. "Bella you must go to America and start a new family to make us great again. You must build up our family, strengthen and purify it," they said. But here I find weak men; men who are not men; men who cannot restore our families. I find men who whore with other women, select weak, pathetic women for wives, make weaker sons; men who have no honor; men who drink and think only about their _cacchio (dicks)_."

Bella is getting more and more wound up. "I am not a weak American. I am Sicilian. This is an honor killing. My father was Casciaferro and my mother was Cicio families; two of the biggest, most influential Cosa Nostra families in Sicily. My aunt married Salvatore Ciaschteddu Greco, the greatest Capo. My sister married Umberto Martino-Greco, _Il Grande_ _Enforcer_. You come from honorable and strong Cosa Nostra roots Giuseppe. But one man, Morri, made it his mission to destroy the Sicilian families. He imprisoned many in my family. "Morri," Bella spat.

"This puttana's father comes from Morri. She has the devil's blood in her as does her sister and her vermin daughters. All ends here. Today! VENGEANCE IS MINE!"

"Nona, that was long ago. I implore you, I plead, Nona stop!" Joe was crying.

"There is no end. As long as there are Morri descendants this will never be over. My grandson will not spread his seed the devil's lair. This will not be over until every descendent is dead."

 _A/N: these are actual old Cosa Nostra families in Sicily and Morri (sic) was real. The intermarriages are fiction like the story, of course._

Stephan stepped over to the band saw and turned it on. The high pitch whine helped drown out Joseph's wailing and pleading.

Peter Mattucci regained consciousness, his head was killing him. All he could hear was screaming and an angry woman ranting.

He could see Stephanie from his position on the floor as someone, probably Stefan, walked over to her and using a big butcher knife, cut the tape holding her to the chair as well as her feet.

Peter used the table's leg to help him regain his feet. Stephanie was being dragged towards the band saw, Stefan holding her secured hands out front. She was fighting, kicking like she had never fought before. Her mouth was bleeding but she was screaming. Miraculously she was able knee Stefan in the crotch and he dropped her as he got her breath back.

Stefan kicked her a few time, stunning her, his steel toed boots impacting maximum damage. Lifting her again by her arms, he once again headed towards the band saw. Peter sprang into action, running head first into Stefan. The impact threw Stefan against the wall but Stephanie's arm flew towards the saw. She screamed in pain. Stefan pushed Peter aside against the meat wrapping table where he hit the cookie jar. Peter grabbed the cookie jar, turned and began striking Stefan with it before Stefan could again push Stephanie's arm into the saw.

The butcher riled in anger once again using is massive arm to push Peter away but this time he misjudged the saw. Stefan's other arm, the one wrapped around Stephani was too close and in an instant the saw took off Stefan's four fingers. Out of reflex he pulled his hand back releasing Stephanie who fell to the floor and crawled away.

Peter found a mallet and repeatedly struck Stefan in the head until he too fell to the floor.

Stephanie pulled herself up using the chair she had been tied to and pushed her sliced arm against her blouse. Her wrists were still taped together. Looking up she saw Bella just feet away with a shotgun held at her waist.

"Men, they are useless. I hire two men to cut you up in your apartment, but you whoring with the Cuban. Instead they take the cookie jar believe a gun is inside. Nothing. Stefan has one job, shoot you. He can't hit you with a rifle, I know, I was watching from the little silver car. So he gives the rifle to another, a man from Italy he hired who is reported a marksman. That man misses your father. He and his associate shoot rockets into house and you escape. So I go back to one of the men I hired to cut you up in your apartment. He had one job, kill your sister and her daughters. That man can't get the job done either. Even the Italians can't kill your family in hospital and get themselves caught! Everyone remains alive. The Devil himself protect you and your family. Stefan is useless, typical American man, incompetent, useless like my son and grandsons. Italian men useless, not good Sicilians who get the job done. Now I, an old lady must finish the job.

Joe was screaming at Bella but she was beyond hearing. Peter was frozen in fear.

"Vanno all'inerno putana!" Bella yelled. (Got to H*** whore)

The blast from the shotgun was deafening but it hid the sound of a second gun being fired. Stephanie was blown backward by the blast and Bella crumpled to the floor.

Joe went crazy, still handcuffed to the metal hook he continued screaming and kicking trying to free himself, but to no avail. He saw his grandmother on the floor with a portion of her skull blown away. Stephanie was flat on her back, not moving.

Seeing Stephanie, Peter ripped off his apron and shirt and crawled to Stephanie to begin applying pressure to her abdomen. Unseen behind Peter, Stefan was only momentarily dazed from Peter's attack. His left hand fingers missing and bleeding badly, Stefan picked up the butcher clever with his right hand. Raising it over Peter to bash in the skull of the unknowing young man, another shot rang out. Stefan fell like a sack, straight down. The bullet that hit his heart blew out the back carrying what was left of Stefan's heart with it.

Umberto stared at Bella, Stephanie. Stefan, and Joseph hanging from the hook. The brave policeman was wailing like a baby. Sirens were heard in the distance. Umberto shook his head slowly and uttered in a sad voice, "Basta." (enough)

Bella had carried her anger and mental instability to Trenton and he was putting an end to it. This monster Bella was his gentle wife's sister. Few knew Umberto Martino was only his partial name. His family name was Greco. He was the son of Don Salvatore Greco. Umberto Martino Greco had been as ruthless as any, until he married Stella Casciaferro when apparently he had left the family business. But he didn't. As Umberto Greco he was feared. As Umberto Russo he was a world renown marble broker who still used his earlier skills. As he aged he became more Russo and less Greco.

Now all was over. His heart was breaking, physically breaking. This time it wasn't another angina attack. He gasped with the pain. He could reach for his nitroglycerin, or end it all. Now was a good time, death on his terms as it had been all his life. He was fortunate to have lived this long, but these last few days brought him no joy. His beloved nephew, Guiseppe, was under suspicion for attempted murder, his insane sister in law killed the curly haired woman Guiseppe loved, and again brought disrespect to the Morelli name. He tucked the gun under his chin, sighed and squeezed the trigger.

Ranger was through the back door before the police. He rushed past a hysterical Morelli still hanging from the ceiling hook. In the main butchering Ranger found Stephanie flat on her back with Peter holding his blood soaked t-shirt on Stephanie abdomen.

"Medic, Medic! Ranger yelled, but didn't need as Bobby was right behind him. As Bobby assessed the wound, police and EMTs flooded the butcher shop.

Time slowed as Ranger watched the EMTs and Bobby pack the gapping abdominal wound and terrible gash on her arm. An IV was inserted in her undamaged arm and she was lifted onto the gurney and whisked into the ambulance. Bobby looked back sadly at Ranger and shook his head no and entered the emergency vehicle before it sped away. No? What did that mean? Was she dead? He wanted to run after the vehicle, but Tank's big hands held him back, "Let the medics do their job. We'll get there shortly."

Ranger looked at the Butcher shop floor. He had seen blood before, too often. But this time it was her blood littered with medical waste, wrappers of all shapes and foot prints of the medics. It appeared as if every last drop of her blood was pooled on the butcher shop floor. Death stench invaded the shop.

Slowly surveying the room he saw Bella was dead. Stefan the butcher was dead. An old man, perhaps Umberto, was dead. Peter, who tried so hard to stop the bleeding was huddled against the wall, weeping, "She saved my life; she pushed me out the window."

Joseph was weeping as his fellow officers lifted him off the meat hook and cut the tape from his wrists. He sagged to the floor. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

Tank took Ranger's arm, "Come on, we need to get to the hospital." As they walked by the weeping Morelli Ranger wanted to bash the guy's brains in, but knew he'd feel no better for the effort. He actually had a bit of pity, a tiny bit, for Joe who could only stare at the blood and brains scattered about the room. The man was broken and lost. He would never be a cop again; he might never be a man again.

000

The emergency waiting room at St. Francis was filled with Rangemen. Often they were there for support of the fallen, this time it was to give blood, lots of blood. Several Rangeman were blood type O negative, the universal donor type. They were at the front of the donation line. The surgery lasted ten hours. With each hour Ranger grew positive she would be OK. Bobby came into the waiting area exhausted, "You need to see her before….she…." he choked up.

"Will she make it?" Ranger asked.

Bobby shook his head no. "Doctor's aren't hopeful. Her heart stopped on the way to the hospital. She was in full arrest when she arrived. It's a miracle she's lasted this long, the injuries are grievous. You can see her for a few minutes, but with protective gear and you cannot touch her, she's in isolation as the abdominal wound is open."

Dressed in scrubs, booties, gown, mask, hat and gloves Ranger moved towards her bed, tubes ran into and out of her body which was tented, keeping the cloth off her abdomen. Monitors beeped, oxygen hissed, blood dripped and the nexus of all was a small, deathly white face with a cap containing her curly brown hair. His life lay in that bed. He was prepared to die in some forgotten jungle now that Rangeman was up and running and his men had a secure future. She kept him from going totally to the dark side and the end. It was she that caused him to give up the government contract. Now his future was in doubt, the darkness threatened to return.

He began to weep, "Babe, I can't go on without you."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The air was surprisingly cool and dry for this time of year in Florida; usually summer's heat and humidity was firmly entrenched. The water crept up the sandy beach, foamed and then retreated only to be over taken by another wave. Endlessly this cycle continued has it had for eons, Poseidon's heartbeat. Ranger stood still and tried to time his breathing with the rhythmic cycle, breathing in the salty air. The air was rejuvenating as if returning mankind's' womb. Maybe man came from the sea and not from dirt as he had been taught in church.

A gull soaring effortlessly on the wind currents caught his eye and he lifted his eyes higher to the skies, into the heavens. If only he could see…. White fluffy clouds, the early tropical cumulus clouds dotted the horizon. As the day grew so would they growing into towering castles. He remembered the young boy in Newark looking for patterns in the while fluffy masses: dragons, horses, and knights. Later, here in Miami the clouds were not so magical to a hormonal, confused teenager. His _abuela_ encouraged him to dream once again, but all he saw in the clouds was their storm potential. He had lost his innocence and imagination. He found it again when a blue eyed, curly brown haired beauty in a suit and heels sat down in the diner and asked him to teach her to be a bounty hunter. The transformation took several years. Lost time. Time they could have been together.

How many years did they lose? Government missions and a relationship didn't mix he told himself time and again. One loses their edge with love. He kept pushing her back to another telling himself it was for her own good. He was trying to keep her from being hurt but greatly wounded her with each rebuttal. He thought himself damaged, but he failed to see she was becoming more damaged than he. She wasn't looking for the diamonds, money, house and family, she was looking for what had been denied her all her life, denied her by her family, Dickie Orr, Joe Morelli, and the Burg; belief in her as an individual, respect, acceptance, and unconditional love.

He stared at the clouds; he could describe how they formed: warm moist air rises and condenses to water droplets releasing heat which keeps the interior warmer than the air around it. This instability allows the cloud to grow. The growth causes the cloud to constantly morph in appearance. Just for a moment he thought he saw a figure in the clouds. The long fluffy cloud reminded him of his Babe's hair and for a moment he thought he saw her face before the cloud changed. He smiled, "She is always with me."

He turned away from the ocean and began the slow lonely walk back. The barren sand gradually gave way to sea grass, long, slender, and delicate. A breeze sent the paspalum and dropseed grass blades swaying seductively. His heightened senses caught the movement in the grass, an animal using the cover for protection. The weathered grey board walk contrasted with the bright green dancing grass and the white sand. He usually wasn't so color conscious. Years of combat had heightened his awareness but dulled his appreciation of simple beauty until she came into his life.

His feet automatically began moving up the stairs, each step bringing him closer to the blue sky above. When he reached the first landing he paused and looked out at the ocean again, marveling how the sun shone off the water creating diamonds, none of which shone brighter than his love for her.

He returned to the stairs and looked up. The blue was above him, the bottomless blue where his mind and heart dwelt.

"Did you go for a run?" she asked.

He continued up the stairs mesmerized by her eyes. It was the first thing he noticed when they met in the diner years ago. As he rose up the stairs the blue orbs grew in size until they completely captured him. He could not look away nor did he want to.

"I ran at sunrise, came back and showered but you were still asleep. I didn't want to wake you so decided to walk for a while."

"I missed you when I woke up."

She had a silk robe wrapped around one of my t-shirts. Only the Babe would combine the two. I took her head into my hands and gently kissed her lips.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

She laid her head against my chest and she wrapped her arms around my waist. She was thinner than before, now delicate like a bird.

"You slept well last night." I whispered in her ear.

"Were you watching?"

"I'm always watching."

"I woke up only once but felt you beside me so I listened to the ocean waves. They calmed me enough I could get back to sleep."

"You should have waked me."

"No, it wasn't bad, the dreams are fading. I knew you were there."

They stood there embraced together, his warmth keeping her warm.

Turning together they walked into the house, "Babe, what do you want to eat?"

She smiled, "Pancakes or waffles, lots of syrup, whipped cream, bacon."

"I know, Babe, and doughnuts for dessert."

"Yum."

She sat down on the counter stool, "But I know I can't."

I nodded, "It is difficult, changing your diet."

She shrugged, "A small price to pay for life…. life with you."

"And allowing me to share my life with you Mrs. Manoso," I replied. Loosing several feet of intestine, her reproductive ability, a kidney, part of her liver and a damaged pancreas has forced her to be careful with her diet.

"I need to get to the office today. Maria and Benito will be by to take you to the grocery store if you want to go out; otherwise Maria will shop. I've got a list, mostly fresh produce. The guys' flight arrives in a few hours. I'll meet with them at the office then they will be here for dinner and spend the night."

"I assume I'm not cooking."

"No," I chuckled, "they are our friends. I'd rather not lose them."

"Hey, I'm not that bad," she pouted. "I've got brown rice down. It's harder than white."

"You boil water beautifully, Babe."

She shook her head in agreement. "I bet I could still do toasted cheese sandwiches but I can't eat them."

"I'll fire up the barbeque. With Tank, Les and Bobby, I'll probably have to cook half a steer. The two of us can have fish."

"Do the guys know we are getting a house up there?"

"Tank has been working with the realtor for the beach house. He's bringing papers for us to sign. They know we are not moving back permanently but will be dividing our time between here, Trenton, Atlanta, Boston, and wherever else you want to be. Your work, like my, need not be tied to one location, Mistress of Data Research."

"So how many houses do you own now Mr. Manoso?"

"We own Mrs. Manoso. Excluding safe houses….let's see, with the new one, five in this country plus the four Rangeman apartments. Foreign homes…two."

"Safe houses?"

"Too many."

"I hope I never have to visit any."

Coming over I kissed her temple, "Me too, Babe."

To télos.

(The end)

A/N: Thank you for riding along with me and not coming after me with pitch forks and burning torches at the end of Chapter 15. You assumed I wouldn't kill of Stephanie….actually I did the first time I wrote the chapter, but figured you'd roast me.

To those who corrected my naming of Valerie's girls…..yeah, I couldn't remember them except for Mary Alice, of course. I wasn't going through the books to find them. Maybe MomofPhoenix needs to provide us with a list of all characters. I've seen partial lists, but even they were not specific….like the coffeecake baking neighbor of the Plums. Don't tell me there's a list on social media…I don't do that stuff. This is as much personal exposure as I allow.

Eleni


End file.
